A list for two in the morning

27 October 2026

I keep a list on the inside of a cupboard door. It is for the nights when sleep has clearly left the building and I am tempted to do something ambitious about it.

Allowed: washing the two cups in the sink. Reading a book I have already read. Writing one page by hand. Standing at the window. Folding laundry, but only if it is already dry and already in the room.

Not allowed: anything that involves a password. I have learned that every decision made after midnight that requires me to log in somewhere looks different at nine, and not in a flattering way.

The list is short on purpose. At two in the morning a long list reads like an accusation. A short one reads like permission, and permission is most of what I am looking for at that hour.

I have thought about adding to it. So far every candidate has failed the same test: would I be glad, tomorrow, that I did this tonight? Washing two cups passes easily. Almost nothing else does.