I honestly think I could come up with some quality writing, were I to have an opportunity to wake up, sip some orange juice and settle down for a good, multi-hour chunk of Writing Time.

Which is why I'm already looking forward to the weekend.

I'm not going anywhere (at least, nowhere requiring a turn onto 93) this weekend. Next week? Well, yes. The "Matt Nathanson and the Sexiness" food drive extravaganza. Otherwise known as Would The Paradise Mistake Me For a Paid Employee extravaganza.

But this weekend? If anything random is going to happen, by God, it's coming TO ME. Otherwise, you'll catch me writing, taking foliage photographs and maybe, if I'm feeling truly badass, treking over to Waterbury for some Cold Hollow action.

My favorite place in the autumn, although I haven't been there in a couple of years. You step out of your car and immediately smell the apples and cinammon. Purr-worthy.

I've had a number of various little bits of stories - a random line here, a general thought there - running through my head the last couple of days, but I'm still trying to get back to a normal sleep schedule, let alone come up with something coherent. I dozed for a couple of hours early Monday morning before climbing back into the car for the trip home. I curled up under covers at quarter to ten last night and didn't wake up until nine.

I've about a week before any extra road trips, and only one concert between now and then (Blues Traveler tomorrow).

And I realized, just now, that this post makes absolutely no sense. So I'll just end it now.