What can I say? Every morning that I loll in bed past six a.m., which is to say most mornings, I am condemned. By whom? Myself, of course. The judge within. This is how it goes: I've slept well. Outside the birds are trilling their light morning tunes. Cotton sheets rub against my skin. It all feels delightful. Why get up and lose this deep savoring? I say to myself. The Buddhist principle here: Human beings cling to pleasure.