4:08 a.m.

That was not a good sleep.

Maybe if I write about it, I will feel better.

I write about it. I feel better. The light filtering through the morning fog gives the room a soft glow.

Avoiding the real work by making homemade tomato soup and croutons. Getting that done will help me write better, right?

Sales calls.

I tell her the contents of the last 16 hours of my days, and she is aligned. So grateful that we get each other. What would I do without her?

Always the same.

He asks me if it’s homemade. I tell him it is. “Why,” I ask. “It tastes really good.” And that one comment is why the procrastination was worth it.

Two days.