I awoke suddenly and a little confused, knocking my reading glasses and travel alarm from the nightstand, not quite sure where I was.  I usually keep my gestures controlled as I spend most of the year sleeping in the back of a pickup truck where there is limited room and rapid movement usually results in a collision with the aluminum walls, but I'm clearly getting used to sleeping indoors and in a bed.  I'm not sure that's what's best, though.

The home owner returns this morning for a couple of days, so I may be sleeping in the truck again.  Or not.  It doesn't matter really, except that the water has been unseasonably cold and greasy with storm-churned flotsam, so I really don't feel like surfing today or running.  I have a stack of letters to write to people, as I like the intimacy of letters over e-mail, and may spend some time in the library.  I'll drive there and then have a late lunch at a bay-side restaurant in the next island south of here.  It'll be a leisurely meal, as they always let me hang out, at least until the early birds come from the nearby assisted living community.

The Weltschmerz is running strong today, though, and I'm missing my wife and wanting to share all of these experiences and days in the sun and surf with her.  She loved beaches and swimming.  Ah, hell.

Maybe it's just time to move on....