I woke up groggy this morning, turning off my snooze alarm and sitting up quickly in bed before I had the chance to go back to sleep. It's been one of those mornings where waking up is especially hard. But it has been peaceful. Finishing Willa Cather's novel, My Antonia in my great red reading chair, I sipped my coffee and relished the silence. A novel finished on time for class--a rare occasion, and accompanied by a warm feeling of accomplishment. Not to mention, it really is a fabulous book that I would recommend to anyone. Especially to Isaac and my mother. A true bildungs-roman.

Waking up to my sweet, cozy house is comforting. My room is tousled and cluttered, but not in the way that makes my mind a frenzy and so that I can't concentrate. It's just...lived in. Shuffling into my living room this morning to make to straighten things while my coffee was brewing was so peaceful. The window shades left open from the day before, the morning light was streaming in and I could hear morning doves. The gold of the walls was at my favorite shade [it changes with the sun--the best is the early morning and the glaze of late afternoon] and the overstuffed red furniture was left cluttered with pillows and deep yellow afghans and books.

I have three days off in a row. Doing my homework will be a luxury, and napping is a promise.