4:24am. Through the open window floats in the sound of the frogs and the rain. The rain. The rain.

Now, I am late on two deadlines.

What is the lesson in all of this?

It always feels like there is something else I need to be doing that is not the thing I am currently doing.

Dua Lipa over the rustling of the tissue paper.

I shouldn’t have indulged in this conversation but here we are.

Four hours of sleep is no good. No good at all.

He tells me that I forgot his jersey. That when I’m in a rush, I make a mistake. That his jersey wasn’t even in the drier yet.

What is it about this moment? I am realizing that it’s fleeting. That there are only so many more of these.

“I’m mossy. My brain is mossy.”