Trials of the Roll

Its been a hard weekend for the roll of toilet paper next to my bed. A triumvirate of attacks.
First depleted by the sniffles of her sickness. Then by her tears, and mine. And now, torn apart by the cat in his fit of joyous destruction.
Is there some symbolic meaning there to be gleaned? Perhaps, but its beyond me at the moment.

Dawn

Today I realized that Dawn has a smell.
And it is a good smell. I imagine if I were able to ask a dog, he would think it the most obvious thing in the world, since the air has different physical properties at different times of day, but to me, it was a surprise.
I realized it when I walked out of the party today. I was at a friend's party, got to talking, and so on, and finally realized, after the band closed up and the last DJ stopped playing, that it was probably time to call it a night. So I said my goodbyes, and walked outside, only to be surprised by the daylight. It was dawn. But the moment I smelled that air, it took me back to those old days when dawn was a regular thing, and simply meant the end of my shift at work. Back in Law School I worked as a bouncer at the local dive bar, going in at 9pm and finishing at 6am, then going out to either study for the day's classes, or to party a bit more before bed, depending on how responsible I was feeling that day.
But all it took was one breath of that air to take me back. I guess I'd been used to it then and never noticed it. Not until now, when I'm so unused to being awake for dawn's early light did I realize that there is a particular smell of this time of the day, and its a fittingly beautiful smell, Fresh with the birth of the new day.