This morning

The sky is blue, what I can see of it through the slats in the blinds over the little window off the rec room. It is 8:30 on a Saturday morning. I would be surprised to be awake and about this early, except for the fact that I have been in this dreary room since 7. The novelty has worn off.
This is a marvelous time to be awake. The whole campus is sleeping, and it is perfectly brisk outside. When I walked, slightly too quickly from Sam's room this morning, in an attempt to get home and sleep for several more hours, I noticed that the sky was like a watercolor. This is interesting by itself, but the part that really struck me was that the watercolor began right at the edge of the field, and unless my memory escapes me, there is a whole city after that field, and then a bay and after that a peninsula. So it was not merely pink and purple strokes in the morning sky, that was genuine cotton candy fog.
I do not like sleeping in beds that do not belong to me. It doesn't have to be anything special, but for me to get a good night's sleep I need to be the primary owner of the bed. I need the autonomy to roll over and to get comfortable any way that I can. And I need to be allowed to throw off the covers or wrap them entirely around my body, or, failing that, huddle next to the nice cool wall to regulate my body temperature back down to something below boiling.
I guess, the point that I am trying to make here, at 8:30 in the morning, in the dirty, dark room off the grungy little rec room is that I did not get a good night's sleep, or really a night's sleep at all, and that I really wish I had. Because this morning was beautiful, but if I could trade the sight of it for 5 hours in my nice cool sheets, I definitely would. And if there was a way of getting into my building without keys when everyone is asleep, well, I would do that too.