That sneaky light is arriving noticeably earlier again. That sneaky sleep is playing games. It knocked me out while I was reading something, and then it twisted my neck while I was unconscious. I woke up and saw vague trees darkening against pale sky. I opened the door and the cat scolded me for leaving her out too long. The chill damp air, densely pine-scented, brushed aside my grogginess. Now I'm too awake, and walking about dazed, with head slightly askew from having slept in the wrong position. The east bleeds light like a curtain being raised to reveal a stage soon to fill with nonsense. I don't want to watch.