Early Sunday

I had a difficult time sleeping last night. I can't find my Vicodin which I sometimes need for the pain of an accident some time ago ,and I can't find the Xanax I often need for my general well-being at night. I have a habit of putting things in a "safe place"; probably "safe" from myself. So I took off at 6.45 to the beach to see the sunrise. It was rather cloudy and the approach to the beach was serene and empty.
But--once over the dunes--there were plenty of people, some jogging, some swimming and obviously up from the night before (it's a great way to wear off your ecstacy), and many waiting for the sunrise, too.
I walked along the beach and was amazed at how warm the water was (great for the feet, better for hurricanes). I have succumbed to the heat and ordered eight pair of mid-lenth summer skirts from my head designer at Target' Fifth Avenue. Although they caused considerable scandal when I first started wearing them a couple of weeks ago, I did make sure they were a respectable length befitting a lady of my carriage and demeanor.

On the way home I saw The Sweeper taking a break from her mission (there wasn't a City worker in sight). She looked tired and I stopped and offered her five dollars. She seemed to deliberately not notice and I said, "For cigarettes" ,whereupon she took it without word. We all have our vices.

This is the first Sunday in three that I haven't been ravaged by that summer cold; I have to do something fun today to make up for it.