It seems that, regardless of how late you stayed up to read books and type ad nauseam in your little electronic journal, morning still arrives at exactly the time specified by those who study and work in celestial mechanics. I picture all those who study celestial mechanics (a type of mathematician that studies how planets and stars and comets go around and around and around and…) to be dressed in their own special coveralls, first names embroidered on patches above their hearts, and sprinkled with stardust. Or comet-dust or dark matter, if you have no overly-romantic bent.

Now there I go again… what did I mean to say? Good morning! I am off to enjoy my tea.

Morning tea, just brewing in the Bauhaus glass pot

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