I woke up earlier than normal. I don’t know what kind of dream had been interrupted. I don’t know why a deep slumbering fog cleared with the voice of Joni Mitchell singing “I really don’t know love, at all.”
But I am awake now. The considerable pull of a morning espresso momentarily overpowered the musician in my head. But within a few metronome beats of the grandfather clock, vision moved from opaque to clear, and the aroma of the steaming latte’ brought a successful merger between Joni and Joe.
This day had begun.
