The wee hours have become my home away from home, when I wake, willingly or not, to start the day. I’ve come to like these times: a cup of tea, laptop, writing this post. Sometimes an early walk when the morning is still fresh beneath my feet.

But when the wee hours are spent at an airport or Metro, they are not as enjoyable.

It’s then (now!) that I imagine how I’d like to spend them — curled up in lamplight, journal at hand, a few ideas rumbling around the old noggin, a shaggy dog at my feet.