33 minutes before bed time everything explodes into an incomprehensible mass of weird energy, fueled by unnecessary extra daylight (sorry non small children parents; I am only jealous of your freedom to frolic in these illuminated spring evenings)

Rudy jumps and yelps and howls and Alice becomes momentarily reflective. We say "shoost" and reach for the wine and wait for the brightness to be a little more refined. And, I ponder, you may be light outside, but I am waiting (forever) on your warmth.

Tomorrow the heating goes off; I gotta feeling.