I awoke way too early feeling way too fresh not to be tormented by Thinking Too Much. (Too many "toos" for this hour.) And why would bad dreams come into play when, God knows, I've been so good of late? When you wake up with a hangover there is no way to ponder the mysteries of the universe, a shallow and tawdry live, or why I have been buying so many strange books. I hope this doesn't signal one of my cycles again (I have been acting weirdly) in which I retreat into my protected little world and cease dancing The Charleston on a table top and start clipping palm fronds in the back yard. Oh, my.