sometimes waking in the middle of the night is okay

Like today, when I woke at 2 AM, only to use the loo. If it was 4 in the morning, I might be looking at the start of my day, hard for me to return to sleep late far into the night. (I'm a morning person, 'nuff said...)

But anything before 4 o'clock is fair game for more shut-eye. And so I lay down, Bob having a snorking, snuffling night (sometimes breathing issues arise, ones that if he went to see a doc would probably be easily remedied, but that's an entirely separate entry that I don't even want to write) and I knew sleep would come, only taking its time.

As I lay, hearing him not quite wheeze but certainly cough, a story hit, not out of the blue, but a title that I love yet haven't been able to properly plot was suddenly filled with reason, purpose, names and details, betrayals and intrigue...

And I'm grateful, especially since I still retain most of what I was thinking. Grateful because that title and the tunes already set aside were withering, falling into a sea of 'This story really isn't going to be about anything is it?'

Shudder! Not a pleasant thought, but now, oh, good grief! Over the last 6 weeks I've had more ideas find their way to my back door than I need. I don't think I'm going to write multiple books in one month; been there, done that and while it's more than possible, it's just improbable. But this story, The Last Remnants of Tuesday Morning, oh, I'm so eager to at least get the middle of the night thoughts down on some paper. That will have to suffice for now, as just last night I sorted a story that maybe be for this time next year. Where is this 2 AM gift now going to slot into things???

No worries. All I am right now is grateful. Grateful for story ideas that manage to sneak their way into my brain. And that I went back to sleep, only waking to the sun coming through at 6-something this morning....