Later, I went out to see if the cool air could finish bringing me back to reality, and there was a raccoon coming up the walk in the gray morning light. It stopped and gave me its baleful bandit stare for a few seconds. I must have been both unexpected and unpleasant to see. I stared back at it and said "Hey, raccoon", and it turned and trotted across the glistening street, preferring the falling rain to my company. I can't blame it.
Now the edge is off my sleep, but my head is still fuzzy inside. I hear the morning crows laughing at me. Why do they laugh? Because they know I watched the rest of the figging Newton-John movie! I couldn't help myself. I'll pay, I know, and not just by enduring the mockery of crows. I'll be disgusted with myself for at least a week. Television is a curse, I tell you!
I'll try to sleep now, and hope not to have nightmares about being Michael Beck.