I was dreaming of collapsing bridges and falling (and falling, and falling...) when I was rudely interrupted by the infernal racket of a wood chipper doing what wood chippers do. It was right outside my window under the palm trees whose dead leaves the gardeners were feeding it. It wasn't even ten in the morning but I grudgingly conceded defeat-- there was no use pretending I could sleep through the noise, no use hoping I could play the snooze button game today; I got out of bed.   

The first mile of my daily commute to work affords me a 30-second, panoramic view of the beach, and sometimes it surprises me and takes my breath away, like this morning.    
                            
The sun was shining brightly in a lovely blue sky, the waves were movie-perfect, and the ocean was a shimmering shade of blue and green. It was what most people would call a beautiful day, and today I would agree with them: it was indeed that, a beautiful day.    

And at that very moment this song was playing within Theo:    
                               
     I want it painted, painted,     
     painted black     
     Black as night, black as white,    
     black, black, black     
                               
Ten years ago such an incongruous juxtaposition would've precipitated a quasi epiphany I think. This morning I merely sang along, and happily.