Last night, I swam in the pool until dusk. It was beautiful. I watched the sun begin to set. The sky was smoky lavender, with birds floating black against the hazy light.
Last night was a tea night. I sipped steaming Lipton tea with a bit of sugar out of a pink mug. It was lovely.
Last night, I listened to the classical station. Listening to classical music usually makes me feel very smart and sophisticated, but last night it made me feel smoggy and creepy-crawly all over. It reminded me of snakes slithering through the jungle.
Last night I ate chips and hot salsa for dinner. And grapes. It was delicious.
Last night I knew I couldn't sleep in this morning but I stayed up late anyway. I think it's a disease. Staying-up-late-itis.
Last I literally winced as I set my phone alarm for 5:15am. You see, I am not a morning person. And I am most definitely not an early morning person. I am a night person. I love night. I come alive at night. My heart-thoughts come fast and easy at night.
Last night, I finally forgave Tweety Bird for being a boy. It's not his fault that he has mile-long eyelashes.
I had a busy night.
Photo credit: © 2009 K. Krallis (SV1XV) (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons // Adapted by Celia on 6/30/12