Up again, middle of the night. The 4am mosquito. Coffee has a pact with her. I’m convinced of it. Every time I have a day off coffee, she’ll get me in the middle of the night. If the inside is the same as the outside then the inside lack of coffee got the mosquito busy and searching for me.
“Keep him awake in the middle of the night. That’ll have him heavy-eyed in the morning. That’ll have him heading for the mokka pot.”
I hate them. Mosquitos, that is. Coffee is the saviour. Good cop, bad cop, slapping me around.