It's odd. Especially with the springtime, I awaken in a rather hopeful mood, despite the circumstances. (As distinct from the winter, when there were other things going on when I awakened.) But after walking a bit, I realize that this is a false condition of the mind, that I'm a bit like one of those waving toy animals you see in gift shops, waving the paw forward and backward with a stupid grin on the face. And then I awaken a second time, and the process of focusing the energies begins. (Especially when I'm up early enough for Lauds before the workouts. Latin focuses the mind.)
In the same way, I sometimes think of the upper-Midwestern college towns that I decamped to during the plague years -- Moorhead, Fargo. Way above the usual American lines of latitude, and I rather liked that. College libraries that seemed unchanged since the 1950s, which was fine with me, as I was looking for works in the hundred years or so before that time. (And the local library had interlibrary access to the state university library, so I discovered a few contemporary Russian novelists in translation.)
But these headwinds, the ones that have blown me off course three times and landed me in the present predicament, will also find me in these places. So just as I focus the mind a second time, the second awakening each morning reminds me that I need to find the means and the strength to find a place over the waters. I think I can do it. I've been there before. Twice, actually.