Don't know what I want

Someone in this neighborhood is frying ham.

It's quarter past eight in the morning, and the air is quite still of any human noises -- although I did hear a car start up and drive away, somewhere, a while back. But I got up at seven when my phone rang, and no one else has opened any doors, started their showers or called to their children since.

But someone IS frying ham. Mmm, gorgeous smell. Almost makes me change my mind -- again -- and walk over to Sully's for a hot breakfast. Although, as I consider it, the taste of frying ham is not nearly, nearly as good as the smell, which is absolutely magical. My knees got weak before I had even identified it, and saliva ran rapidly into my mouth. Which is a thing that never happens to me, so there you are.

See, my plan for the morning was to get up when the alarm went off at six, shower, and walk over to Sully's in the pleasant warm sunny morning, and eat a lovely breakfast, cooked for me and brought to me on a plate while I sat at a corner table and sipped their prize-worthy coffee and read my book and looked about me. But then I couldn't fall asleep last night, or even get comfortable, and listened to the Book on Tape for an hour before the CD came to a stop, and even then it still took me a while. Don't know how long, I stopped looking at the clock, but kept my eyes closed until the magic happened. So, then I didn't want to get up this morning, and kept hitting the snooze button. Until the phone rang.

And when I looked out the window and saw that not only had it rained in the night, it was still raining, gently, softly, desultorily -- and I did not feel like a rainy walk was quite what I wanted. So here I sit, having finished my own coffee, my shower, and the scrub-down I felt compelled to give to the deck railings while I was out there this morning -- and I don't know quite WHAT I want.