I don't know what I'm waiting for. I sit here at night, following link after link that holds little interest, waiting for Bean to come running out to the sofa. I feel like it's my duty to intercept her. But the waiting is more than that. I'm waiting for the storm to come ashore. I'm waiting for rain. I'm waiting for the waiting to be over. I sleep only two or three hours each night. My eyes feel like manhole covers. Am I keeping my eyes open because I'm afraid of what I'll see when I close them? I'm waiting. I'm waiting it out. If only I knew what that "it" is.