My Cardboard Balcony

5 AM Bailey's by Belinda Roddie Irish cream isn't enough to wake me up, even with coffee, splinters of sugar, cinnamon, and croissants. It is ungodly early, and I am tired, and the morning doesn't suit me when I am a nocturnal creature. I'd rather stay up until the sunrises and sleep for the most boring part of the day until I can drink liqueur on ice and cuddle with mo chuisle into the wee hours of the AM.

It was a difficult burden to harness, but we knew it was the right thing to do for Eddie. We dragged out all of the things he owned from the ramshackle cottage in which he had lived for half of his life. Mattresses, chairs, stools, tables - even an "old-fashioned" chandelier that looked like it had been bought from a flea market - were all tossed into the yard, ready to be literally axed and burned.