It is 9 am on a fine Friday morning. Last night I slept like a sloth, that is, as a sloth adheres itself to the tree trunk, so was I adhered to the sheets. Woke up the same way I had gone to sleep. No turning nor tossing, no inflating of the mattress nor rubbing of the hips.
Will take on of the zillion cycle paths in Canberra, around lake Burly Griffin, and generally enjoy being on the move with no precise destination. The city offers plenty of undulations to keep one from being a little to smug.