It’s 9:38pm and I’ve just sat down at the desk to write. An alarm on my phone has already chimed to remind me I should be going to bed soon to be up early for work tomorrow. I don’t work weekends and really need to remember to remove the Everyday option. The glow of my bedroom lamp makes the room even sleepier. I looked at the screen of my phone and didn’t realize I had the Night Shift mode turned on; everything in this room is sepia already. Or is it Brown Ochre? I can’t remember anymore, I’ve been away from paints too long. I turned Night Shift off and now the screen is as piercingly bright as the large monitor starting me in the face. I’m awake, I’m here.

I think I may have touched on this before in a deleted draft (so why am I mentioning it) but the late night posts should stop. As much as I like the idea of being the blog version of a late night radio host, it hurts the writing. These shouldn’t feel like part of my night-time ritual. If these things continue to be posted late, they will have been written earlier in the day to avoid them reading as rushed. I’m getting older and I’m not as sharp as I used to be in the late hours.

The night-time world is just starting to begrudgingly head out the door. It’s still the middle of winter so only the truly bored or desperate will brave going out into the cold for a drink. Tacky heat lamps will be a cherished commodity tonight for the smokers. The lounges with the newly added patio fire pits will finally draw in the crowds but only long enough to order a drink and head back outside near the flames. Bar owners and restaurateurs stop putting out wooden chairs because too many will end up as firewood around 11:30pm.

I’m getting a bit too old for that. I’ll stay in with the cat and click away on the keys. This weekend will be mostly devoted to writing and reading. There is also a letter I should be writing to a friend who lives in a city currently buried in snow. They understand cold weather much better than us Californians do and they have better places to drink. Were I there, I’d brave the cold.