I hope I can wake up early enough to get started on raking tomorrow. My sleep schedule has gone so thoroughly catawampus over the last few weeks that I have no idea when I will sleep or when I will wake. Today I managed to get up around two o'clock in the afternoon, but only because the sun came out and brightened the room enough to disturb my dreams. The disturbing dream involved me trying to brush away spider webs that gleamed with what seemed an inner light. I woke up with Portia's tail brushing my face. No spiders, but I was lucky to escape without flea bites.
When I called the newspaper this afternoon to end my subscription, they offered me 13 more weeks at the promotional rate, which is half the normal rate. I still wouldn't have renewed, except they told me I'll have a full 90 days to pay the bill, and given how cold this winter is likely to be there's a good chance I won't be alive in 90 days, and then I'll never have to pay the bill at all. Lucky for me that newspapers are getting even more desperate than I am.