Whiled away the time between prayer and morning coffee in catching up on my friends list (welcome, tiffj and coollibrarian!), rooting through unread e-mail, finishing another Buffy episode, and taking a catnap.
Been here since 7: wrote a couple of procastinated e-mails to friends, added a task or two to my to-do list, finished reading J.C Ryle's "A Call to Prayer," and read from Exodus. It's tempting to feel productive, but that's not really the feeling (in fact, that feeling can be kind of a trap for me). It's more a sense of being alive and grateful.
Just finished The Problem of Pain. The last chapter, "Heaven," is a crown jewel; I believe it could be read independently and well enjoyed.