Something about the middle of the night in the summer doesn't feel the same. I won't let myself do any work at that time.
But here I am close to the winter solstice and I've been awake for the past hour doing chores including packaging up yesterday's meal for future dinners. I've got four more coming.
And now I'm likely going to work until 4 a.m. or so on a long-term project for three weeks from now, and then sleep until 7 a.m. or so. Maybe later. Who knows?
I just know there's something calming about the middle of the night in winter with more profound silence as I go about my life doing whatever it is that I do.
Striking down the mundane and dastardly while retaining a certain obscure turn of phrase, denoting something elusive yet concrete.
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