The clouds have settled on the ground as fog. Because the moon is nearly full, the fog is lit from above, lending night a soft, eerie glow. I can see the path before my feet, and the branches of nearby trees, but the distance grows hazy. Here and there, a window or porch light shines in a fuzzy halo. The oddest thing is that wind is blowing. In the tule fogs of Los Angeles, there was almost never wind, and its rare appearance heralded the dissipation of the fog. The mountain fogs are storms, and often are accompanied by treetop winds, but I have never quite grown accustomed to the combination. I expect fog to be silent, but here it is filled with groaning trees and strange clatters of dislodged trash can lids, slamming doors, and pine cones rolling down rooftops. The sounds echo from their fog-hidden sources and make the night seem as though it were haunted.
I woke much too late once again. I hope this isn't a new pattern I've fallen into. My schedule is hectic enough without further disruption. There is something else I'm supposed to be doing right now, but I can't remember what it is. It is something that ought to have been done a couple of hours ago, most likely, but is unrecognizable out of its proper time slot. I'll probably wander about aimlessly, wasting still more time, until I remember what it was. Or maybe I'll just go stand under the shower for a while, in hope that the water will clear my muddled head.
Feh! Circadian rhythms! Now, there was an idea that would have been useful, had it worked. It must have been designed by Microsoft.