Donut In The Dark

14 Apr

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I awoke this morning at 1:36, having negotiated with Sleep for a restless hour, concluding that she was not persuasive, and fully aware that my will to resist was paper thin.

As I sat on the edge of my bed in the still dark room,  I calculated the number of hushed steps from the bedroom door to a glorious chocolate drenched donut in the refrigerator, the delight that was to be my breakfast in the honesty of daylight.

Sleep surrendered and grudgingly retreated to the corner near the window where I had tossed my brown hiking boots.

The tile was cool on my bare feet as I rose into the blue light from the bedside clock, hoping that I would not step on my invisible black dog or one of her irritating squeaky toys as I took the first steps.

The mysterious magic of a donut in the dark is a temptation beyond my ability to resist.

Oh, the taste. Unspeakable.

Sleep was not impressed with my apology, but, happily, we became friends again about 2:06.

 

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