It is 6:45 in the morning, and for the second time in a week I've watched the sun come up. I still feel like garbage, and I haven't slept but for a few hours around midnight. I've been rolling in place in my bed all night, listening to what must be hundreds of acorns falling from the trees outside on to the cars in the street and the sunlight over my kitchen. It's these sharp cracks and the occasional tradeoff of clogged nostrils that I've used to note the passing time. I want to be asleep right now. I want to be twitching and dreaming, shit, I want to go to work. But I won't do any of that. I've got a few hours' worth that I can do from the house, but I'm savin that for the mid-morning, when there's nothing on TV and the sun has kicked me out of bed. So now I'll just sit here listening to the last of the crickets and sniffling every few minutes. On a lighter note my dad's supposed to get out of the hospital today, a full three days earlier than expected. Of course, I won't let myself anywhere near him with whatever small plague I'm toting around right now, but it's nice to think about nonetheless. So I will sit here and try to sleep some more and work pretty hard to get this Cat Stevens song about breaking morning out of my head. I wish it was still raining.