I went to bed at 9:30 last night. And that was only after an impromptu neighborhood walk kept me up an extra hour. Josh and Ann had a daughter. I fell asleep with their baby on my mind. Around 1am Sarah called my name from downstairs... "Em, there are airbnb renters for the cabin here?" To describe myself as bleary-eyed doesn't do justice to my bra-less, creased face, still half-way damp crazy pressed-flat-on-one-side hair and slurred speech self. "There's been a mistake, I stumbled and opened my computer to show them that there was still a lady in there..." only to realize that I had a lost a day sometime between now and Wednesday and that these people were rightful occupants of a not-ready cabin. I want something special to snack on. I have plans with a new friend to ride down to the PSU Farmer's Market. I love the market and her companionship but because it's a plan I don't want to go. White morning light, a jar of gas-relief tea, a pile of Goodwill donations, Sarah's waking footsteps above my head. I recently met a man on the bus to Seattle. He is an O'Connell, so of course he has red hair. He is kind and smart and lives in New York so our texts are made titillating simply by the middle of the night timing. We have been writing to each other about joy. Doing for others brings him joy. Doing exactly what I want brings it to me. He is a provider, I am a creator. And that is how babies are made.