It was tomorrow yesterday or was it tomorrow today. Tomorrow today. That sounds about alright.

There has been a rat problem at my estate,e and it has gone far enough—time to get out the front door: gloves and boots in hand. I was coming out of the back door to the garden. The swing and slide haven’t cleaned themselves up yet. The newest tree of the home is coming through. That’s all I have to say about that. How does a civilian go about to exterminate, or in other cases, relocate, which is what I will try to do by scaring them away from my house?

The weather has been sunny the past few days, but it was raining a lot, so not minding the clouds, it is a nice day. If you don’t look at them funny, they will pass through here, and we can enjoy a nice day out exterminating some pests.

I can walk back through those doors, and my duty for today will be left for tomorrow. I have been standing here for too long, so I might as well get moving before anyone sees me.

There is no point in doing this. Me there executioner having second thoughts at the door before I put an end to their life. If I had chosen to sleep in today as well, they might have d; some would have gone away to look for food or gone out to look for a home. Whatever it is these pets do with their lives, what if today is their national holiday and there are out visiting relatives. That wouldn’t account for the one I saw through the upstairs window. What if I didn’t see that one, the one that slept in and missed the travelling squirrel bus for squirrels and rats alike to travel the neighbourhood. I bet they miss Epim hosts the largest pest filled yard. I have to pull my weight today as well to not take that title away from her. I want to sit down in this lawn chair, bring my largest portable screen to the outside, grab some snacks and have a nice day. If only there was one day where I used these outdoors the way it was intended. Some others have more way of it than me. That’s a happy life.

Instructions said I go and look at all the holes in the ground and to secure the house from any holes in the basement. I’ve been around, and I have set up 5 equipment tanks to feed into the ground this poisonous air. It’s not air, but it’s liquid. Liquid air? That sounds like anti herb, anti grass life if I’ve ever heard one, the liquid air, the anti-cross-company to the beautiful, life life, where they care about life. Two companies going at it, whilst I buy from them what I need, sometimes I am the ally of life. Sometimes I’m its grim reaper, breaking off branches, and pushing it into the ground beside the feet of the tree. I wake up, and the world suffers for it.

I wonder if I save a life, don’t rats give you rabies or something. The black plague. I have just collected the souls that are due, hou hou hou.

Wait 30 minutes, and your life will be rat-free. They can’t promise me that. They can’t promise me that at all; who do they think they are that they will have any value for the rest of my life just because I bought their products. Its impossible,

I know what I can do. Give me a second; I just need a camera.

Okay. a good plan is one that comes out of inspiration and the moment thinking; the first thing that comes into your head is the purest. I can try to find rats to interview; would that be funny. It can be more of an exploratory one of the yard, but what happens if I can’t find anything. It will be me crouch walking through the yard, pushing past bushies, pocking behind the shed and kicking my slide to see what pops out. That isn’t a video. Ermm. I can try to find out how many cartwheels I can do or how long I can handstand for. I could have a handstand obstacle course, it wouldn’t take long to set up, but that isn’t it. I could try to summon a demon; perhaps, I could use the grey skies for an advantageous view. Perhaps, mayhaps. I could talk about my rat and pest problem for 30 minutes; I could do that. I am exhausted from doing nothing, but I must have creative juices flowing; it builds up when I am not using it for times like this. I am no longer willing.

Hello, Mr rat. Have you grown so big because of me? Was I a good host for your paralytic behaviour? I am not upset with you, Mrs rat. I have killed you and everyone else that has ever set foot in my house, rat. I am not too kind to your species or your lifestyle. Rats, you can come here all you want and hide from me and let me hear your pitter-pattering little foot wiggling, all you want, little rat. I do want to know how you keep coming into my house; insects are small. I understand how it might be possible to move in a way that is blind to my eyes. Monsters are what they are. Or more like fairy tales. We evolved past a point to stop caring about them that they have become undetectable when they fly past us, and we try to keep track. Makes me think, why is it that I don’t think they have evolved to become undetectable in the terrain, so I wouldn’t be able to keep track. It is them or me that has evolved faster, I would like to believe it is me, but I suspect that we have fallen behind in the evolutionary cycle.

A hundred years from now, okay, no a couple hundred thousand, maybe a million years from now, I wonder if these small creatures will evolve to a point or even, not even wishful thinking but pass their ancestors in size and terror. Maybe it is in a way that nature figured things out. If they stayed huge and terrifying that we humans would pick up our pitchforks and fight them all down until we were the only ones left. Or did nature deem that unfair? Is it preparing us for the final fight, man vs beast? Will it end in the victory of humankind, or at the central peak of sunlight will the seas sink into the earth and the creatures of the deep start walking. Bang bang bang, shoot shoot shoot. Who will win there? I swear if this is just some big social experiment fight club, I’m gonna scream.

I say pests because I can’t seem to find it anywhere online, no one has a name for one of those things, and it is starting to freak me out, starting to think maybe I was wrong with messing with it. It is larger than a rat, but it runs on four legs, it is furry like the rest, but it is more head preferred, more headsey turney. Maybe the poor thing has a tumour. Do you think it cried when it let out its final breath? I think no one does. You let out one final breath but cry it out. I don’t know. I can’t think of a way of death that would make that happen. I don’t think I have thought of it as death. Why is that? Am I the weird one when it is pointed out to me the emotions that insects show that I don’t feel sympathy? It’s not like I didn’t know what they could feel before I decided to kill them. We kill insects all the time, don’t you think it is obvious that we know that they can feel. It is not something new that we have learnt. This is not a hurting thing because they are alive. Yes, they are like us in some aspects. Yes, killing has become a part of who we are in a sense. We see something disgusting and scary. We kill. I guess some people are so disconnected that it can be something that they have difficulty with coming to terms with or noticing that this is not something revolutionary, that we have been brought up in a broken world, that we have been taught with no mercy to kill beings that have lives just like us. But there is a point where you cross the line, and I think they don’t see it.

I think moving this bench should be a priority right now. The garden is now beautiful or will be. I shouldn’t have the bench sideways. It hasn’t been moved since my childhood, so my hesitation is warranted. The bench, classical park bench nostalgia. I think it is why my dad got it. But it always has sides ways. I was thinking because of the placement of the window. The way the peg and plants lie across from the house, the bench is a side view to the garden and not the front view because of symmetry or something. Still, I remember we had times when it was barbeque season, and all the adults would sit on the bench, to look after the kids, to look after the kids. Of course, kids run around to see them and shout accordingly to discipline them at a party. Well, of course, show them what is right, beer in one hand and a cigarette in another. Maybe they should wave the flaming hot grill wand, poke poke poke maybe, and of course put a trampoline and a pool. Still, only one at a time, and the trampoline is out when it’s barbecue time and not the pool because fun combos have never made sense. I am cranky. Maybe it is this medicine, I mean poison. Why didn’t I go inside to wait? I see something, a cat and a mole person. I chase away the cat, wouldn’t like to be called the neighbourhood cat killer, but I look down at this mole person. A really small, greyishly but white small fetus is lying down in the dirt, a bit dug up. Did the cat bring this to me as a treat, a thank you, a warning. Mayhaps it was I was handling this kind of greeting I was part of. I had their child, there were going to leave soon, I didn’t need your help kind of meeting we had with the dark greeny cat. I don’t think taking away rat babies would do you any good, though, green cat, a good thing I was evolved for the brains and you took after the cuteness ferality of the pool. I do feel bad about the baby, though. I can hear him say, you thought to kill kill kill, but have you ever thought that the ones you are conditioned to kill have babies of their own to look after, maybe that your prejudice aside and let it go, relocate them, are they actually doing you harm, have you even thought of that. We kill without thinking about something so basic. I still don’t get it. They are pests. But a part of me knew that and felt pain. Looking at it like this, I think it was the poison that killed it. Maybe it was the first to go to the other side, and the others fled. I think I have them all still. The problem was solved; today was a good day. Did I kill the baby rat, or did the cat, or did the cat sniff it out? Maybe without fur, they smell better. Does that make sense? If you were alive, mole-rat. Would you talk to me and tell me your deeds and talk about the life that you didn’t get to live. I, for one, would hate your life. Living to survive, following something that is set up already. Where is the glory in that? Where is the legacy you will leave behind, mole-rat? Don’t you want to wake up mole rat and not have anything to do your entire day because it is already set up for you? You only have to deal with the comings and goings of life, and those aren’t that bad, your life and who you spend it with is there with you, that has already been chosen. You don’t have to tell me about the comings and goings of the day can be bad. I am staring at your corpse right now, and I bet you believed the adults had it so much more fun than you. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you it got worse, you will never believe me now, but it is true, your mindless when you are born, maybe even the best time of your life. The understanding of fear is the understanding of boredom that life will never be what you wanted it to be. But I cry mole, if I shed a tear on your corpse, will all be forgiven. But that seems gross, and I am sorry for that, it’s not your fault you’re what you are, throw your hands in the air in protest against me, tell me that there is nothing for you to do and to leave me alone, tell me that you are privy to emotions of grandeur that you will never be able to handle or ever know what it is like. Tell me the poor little giant, that you never wanted to be the rat king, lead a charge, find the greatest of shelters, find a place where they will give you food year after year, and that you can finally start a home and build a family where then they will seek out more shelter because the food will no longer be enough. We care more about the food than our people. Little giant, roaming free in your gigantic world, play with your toys and stay still in your homes, you will never know the greatness of being part of the family will feel like. I don’t think I played up the whole life of greatness over mundane up to the peak as I wanted to, but I feel like you have places to be, don’t you mole rat? Well, I may or may not have killed you, your response. Good golly, I am a rat and what you did was not rattaculous. I’m ratdge.

You don’t care, do you? You will live a thousand lives before we live one, yeah. Is that the way the world works of your kind? And what happens when one day we have satellites that can kill every single one of you from space. Is that day prophesied for your kind? The day you stand no more chance, but you still insist on coming to my yard to mess with me, the big honcho of this estate, I don’t get it, mole man, scurry away now. Now it is up to me to decide, should you go to the trash and work like a warning or should I bury you because I spent time with you and now you mean something to me? I don’t know how much that bond will mean if I were you gut and spray the blood all around our property to instil fear in those that come to house Eradae. You come this way. There is only death that is awaiting you.

“Howdy neighbour, you don’t mind me coming over here to see what you are doing, do you? It’s just sometimes auntie gets upset that mama Perry gets jittery, starts talking and talking about the way you are moving and that you are planting and plotting your way all the way over to her part of the land. Digging tunnels may be to come to kill her when she is sleeping, maybe even steal her dog if the tunnel you are working on isn’t good enough, she was going to start making phone calls. No one wants to hear her speak for more than a day, so we oblige, you see, don’t get this wrong that I am one of those people she called, I am the gust of wind, the glazing, blazing glory wielder of wind, that comes before the thunder strikes? So missy, what is it you got there, and you better tell me about the yard works you are doing? I haven’t seen anything like this before. We don’t want the trouble you cooking. We loved your mom. I remember her dearly, meet her recently?”

I was crouched on the floor, my knees gathering the moist grass. I didn’t lookup. Thought that a couple of seconds of silence would bring up the awkwardness to an unbearable degree. People like this, however, have a filter that allows them to stand their ground, living in their own world of self-involvement. I killed rats today. I am spent. I don’t want to be the one to talk it out with a neighbour and a person I don’t like and have made it obvious that I don’t like. I can’t figure out a way that will place a boundary around me to not interact with me. I’ve played the dance of conversation so many times that I have finalised in my head what kind of a person this is and how much I don’t want to involve myself with them. I don’t want to involve myself with them, but here he is over my fence. Oh, cat god comes down the tree you have decided to bless with your slumber and scare this stick figure out of here. And a Timmy v.2 will be too much to ask for, so I will accept my sins.

“Hi bob, fancy seeing you today in my, um vision.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Penny, are you making some sly remark at me again? I told you it is cruel to act that way to someone your junior. Especially one at most your mercy, Penny.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“How are the Roger family doing this? Well, afternoon. I have been doing a little time loop experimentation in my part of town. It this really cool and interesting. I’m going to be setting off some fireworks here and there. When combined in the middle, it is going to make this really contrasting colour of fire, which is vaguely the gates of hell. Do you want to be here when I come to it? I know your family is a big believer, and seeing something like this might change the way you live your life forever. If you do come, tell Mappa to give the dog to Betsy or something, she wouldn’t want that thing freaking out. You know how much I care about the small details, and you know I am insane about the shoot going right. I can feel it already, the time ticking down, the cogs in my head, oh god oh my. You see, it’s a shoot. I told you it’s a shoot. Every time you come over to complain, it’s a shoot. I would have half a mind if I didn’t suspect it wasn’t really a problem in your casa, and you used them as an excuse to come and… bug me? Using the fact that we haven’t spoken to your advantage. Because standing here, I can tell you that it would seem like you have some kind of problem with me, because every time you get curious, you come over and talk about what I am doing but, no. I don’t talk with you. I say I’m doing a shoot, and then I ask you to push over and let my day return to being between me and the sun. No interference from any humankind. Could do without that, blessing into a way to make money.”

“Cant tell mama what she wants to hear; otherwise, our lives do get messy out in often. Came through there, hop in over here, and that dog, I swear she has a demon of grandpa inside it. Now I’ve said it already, so I won’t say it again.”

I smack the pair of gloves I am holding on the fence in a give. The fence wobbles, his eyes never leave me, the gloves fall to my side of the fence, just missing the mole person who is lying between my feet.

“Clifford, I am sorry for any inconvenience or distress I have caused for your family. You can tell her that it was something to do with the company I work for, that should get her to think for a bit and leave you alone. It is not like this is a world where I am not in your favour or not in understanding your situation. I just would like to assume it is the same for you. We want the best for each other, we work together, and we get out of the situation you are stuck in without getting anyone else covered in mud. I can do that for you. I would even be willing to come over to your house and show the plan and sketch I had planned for the big evac. I will sort this out for you. Mind staying here while I’m gone?”

“You messed up, Penny, real bad. I could say I saw it coming, but who would believe me? I’ll believe me. You wouldn’t, though, right?”

“Peter…”

“Have you seen the sun lately Penny, I’m told it has been out and about for a while. A very long time, some might say. I think that person will be me, and you know why I have been talking about the sun, the same reason you have. Because it is a great distractor. Penny, don’t make me look at the sun when there is a dead rat by your feet. I’m telling. She has been killing again, hasn’t she, and that equipment outback is so the smell doesn’t fly all the way to us, and you can melt the bodies away in acid and get away with it under our noses. You were right Penny, I didn’t come directly from moma all those times, but this time, I did, to warn you a bit that moma did call in the cavalry. They will be coming to get you, Penny, be warned from the thunder before the lighting. You made a mistake and haven’t been part of this community for a while. I’ll see you on the other side moon. Penny.”

Waves his hand behind his head in a badly angled position as he struts off in a light jog. Leaving me with the dark skies to cover for him. I didn’t mess up. And what is all that talk about cavalry? Are they going to break into my home and take me out of bed to beat the living crap out of me? Over a rat. Or pests. That weird one, could it of been their pet. No way. It isn’t me. I should’ve been more enlightened of the events that would take place afterwards for my actions. I was tired. There was a problem to solve. I shouldn’t have lied. I didn’t even lie because I thought they would think it was beka killing.

I just knew that if I did say that I was taking care of the trash that had moved in, he would have gone back to his moma, waving the flag that they were at war. Every kills pets. I mean pests, just not in front of the Rogers. And if I did tell the truth, I wouldn’t have used the words trash to describe life. Talking about death, when do you think the ladies going to kick it. I don’t think the Rogers will be that important in town gossip after she’s gone. But that old mom filled out the pages of her life like she was in her youth.

Probably the Priest. Yeah, that’s the most likely contender on who walking up to my front porch. Today was a good day, a productive one, even though I was feeling spent. Tomorrow would have been better and then some forevermore. The name of my ex, kidding, lame joke. But I need these jokes and an up wielding, never yielding attitude right now.

“Hello, priest; how may I help you.”

“I’ve come, for one thing, Beka. I’ve seen what my girls have shown me. The backyard is a mess, and we have found several bodies in the trash. I thought we made this very clear. Stay straight, go get out of our town. We have been built on solid footing. There is a temple that keeps our mountainside happy. We haven’t lived this long, survived this long barring the threats of those around us, threats that they are only messengers are for; we pertain to threats but the ones we receive directly. Your arrival was one of great change and promise for our town, our people; someone had come to remove the father before my betrayal. I had welcomed you as Penny did her home. You ashamed us, but we are not at fault. Now, look at me beak when I tell you this. Leave by the morrow, or you shall meet your brethren by hand.”

Didn’t expect Beka to answer the door before, she came out of nowhere and that speed. She stands up well to Priest, bends down and gets closer to her face to smell her breath. Beside her stands Rosemary, who is holding a pipe in one hand as she plucks out everything that we’ve stuck on our porch. She’s acquiring a nice pile there. Fray came to be intimidating; I didn’t know they taught overeating in the church still. He is standing at an awkward angle. The only part of him visible to Bex is his outline showing the Priest as bigger than he actually is. This lighting is gone for his benefit. I wonder if Beka feels afraid here.

“good job, priest. Congratulations. You caught the one that got away, using the methods at your own hands, using the power invested in you, I have been exorcised. I am free, my lord; I can feel it. Don’t get real. So just get started, will you? Skip the fact where you actually believe anything a person past the age of 80 says. Okay. You can tell, right? By looking at me. You can see my aura or something, I know. The look you gave me when I first moved into town, you knew me as good, so stop this malarkey. And come out with it. You want to come inside. Have yourself dinner. The blinds are up, and the house smells delicious after today. Eyes and ears of the town. You wouldn’t come here to mess with happy campers now. I can see too. You are hurting and are under the knife of an oldie. But a goodie, isn’t she now. I believe it is in the best interest for us to work together, but those plans are out the window because I haven’t changed. Plus, I wouldn’t be talking openly in front of Penny like this if, by an anti miracle, I had changed. Fellas.”

She closes the door behind the Priest as she instructs them to clean up their mess and stand watch and report every single light on the streets that they see. Giving the colours of the cars that passed to Fray. The closing of the door to backing into it because of the Priest standing as a closing wall to her does not bring memories. I know the Priest. I know of the Priest, what the headstands for. I don’t want to be included in the village. It isn’t part of who I am. But if I want Beka to stay. I have to deal with the trouble.

“Priest, do you mind telling me why you are here. I got a visit from Rex today; he had come to warn me about the trouble that was brewing, told me about his moma, and how much I was disturbing her in my backyard. I’m sure from that distance she couldn’t make up which one of us it was out there, but I’m sure she called in the cavalry, Heads words not mind, to take care of me once and for all. I bet he and his moma are expecting something big to go down, but I want to put things behind and move onto a better future here in my house. You heard about the call to the cavalry too?”

The priests cloak had hidden daggers of intention. This floating figure, white a black top, was inviting danger to our house. My house. Mom. she would have given me up.

“I believe in dragons, Miss Penny. I don’t believe in elven wolves. What is it that you can tell about me? Is it my daft exterior? Is that it because I’ve been talking to my decorator to help me find a guy, a guy for the job. The Rogers have the highest ties with our church; you might not know this because they are pretty adamant in only keeping ties through money and work alone but their son. Is a follower, a surprisingly sharp one. We thought we could shove them into the fatting program. We lack in creativity that we make up in creativity in other departments, and we refused us. He is playing me too. Your pet is playing me, and I’m guessing you have your own angle too. It comes with the job. No longer acquaintances. No longer friends for freinds sake. And family is no longer a problem, but my family the church has been getting at me too. Mind if I sit down a bit. It gets to me a lot, and it would be very, incredibly exhausting if I was going to carry on playing this afternoon. Bex was right. I let down my guard, too many responsibilities stacked up, and when the call went in, I went with it. Mind else were. I will take care to take this never happens again. I promise you, Bex. You will leave here. How do you think it shows on me that I keep around a beast such as yourself. And I am supposed to be the face of change. No one will trust me with any shadows lingering by. Bad for business. Tourism has gone down. Morale outside has gone down, and you wouldn’t like to hear this, but you don’t have the heart to break, so it will come onto you as a lesson, then a threat. The kids in the temple ran around with their broken sticks, chasing each other around playing a serial killer. We placed too much judgement on hiding who you were that we unintentionally created a legend. They call it Bexxed. When they stab someone through the heart. They used to play tag. Bexxed, your dead. Now you are the good guy, and it is I who am chasing you around. Where was I? This coach is very comfortable. All I need to do is kick off my boots, untie them. Take off my coat, put it behind my head, put on some radio and wake up tomorrow. That easy. I can reach you tomorrow. No more worries or struggles for the day. Tempting. This spot. I think this is where I talk about your mother. It is also what that phone call has given task for me to perform. The pest problem we have been working on. There is a company we want to hire, but not every single one will be handled. So Beka hasn’t been killed again. I am confused again. That’s the right penny. Have sympathy for me. Ask her to leave. Kidding wouldn’t break your connection.”

He sat that there for a while. Breaking the silence with quips about how we should get comfortable as well. Bring him something to drink. He faced the tv, and we faced him. Beka was leaning on the door still. I wasn’t really thinking about something in this silence. It was silence in our heads too. At least mine. Was it fear, the suspense, the anticipation for something to happen? All of the above, maybe. Like that wasn’t enough, the movement could be heard from the back yard, smashing sounds, metal against metal was being hit, as Beka stormed towards the sounds the front door was being pushed against as a whole, the door if it wouldn’t break from the hinge, but a whole would be made through it. Eyes fixed on the Priest, I take a couple steps before I myself barge into the door, looking out the peeper. I brace against the door and look out for Beka. I see a large chicken bone with meat still on it as I try to calculate if I am able to place it lock the door. The door the having its own lock already I search for Beka, she is picking up the pieces that are flying out with Rosemary’s swing of the bat, she moves over to the bins, I assume then repeats, her face is lightly illuminated, and chatter stops the clanging of metal. Rosey, short for Rosemary, is now waving her pipe bat Beka, but not in a; this is a fight way, and I have a lot to say. My stature is not enough to emphasise the seriousness of the comments I am making, so I need to wave around this metal thing to make you pay attention to me. The people in that church are really not growing upright. It’s not that I don’t care for them. I’m just out of it, out of every circle. It is not up to me to change them. But today, I think I should say something to someone to get them to stop.

I don’t remember the rest, but I have been told what happens through Bex. I think I passed out from the fumes. I think I inhaled too much, not when I was outside, but when I was indoors making food and eating, Beka told me how bad it smelt, but I didn’t take it seriously. It was out her window that it was brought to my attention that there was something that needed to get done. Work chores at a time-limited length. I’m really disappointed in myself that I clocked out. I want to be part of the life that Beka is in, but with the high intensity, what am I kidding. I should take extra care when I am going outside. Don’t want to cause trouble. These situations. There is no entertainment out of it, nothing interesting to talk about. But I want to be part of that life. Would I have made it worse? I can’t be sure, but I can’t allow myself to find comfort in that thought. It is better left unsaid. It is better left in the past. Okay okay. What happened. Something suspicious, but in her story, my placement wasn’t included. I went to the door, then what? The walls came closing in, the Priest disappeared right in front of my eyes. TheIcoach came right up to my face, almost feeling as if my face was pressed against it. Then I was on the stairs then upstairs. But our neighbours got involved, threw a brawl with Beka. She tried dodging and dancing out of the way of everything. Still, she got caught up with some nasty ones; she said she went up the front door from the back; they really did trash the place; the outside looks like a hurricane passed. It confirms a hurricane with how organised the inside is. The Priest talked to the neighbours with the cat, explaining the situation. After seeing Beka getting chased, they understood what was going on. They didn’t know that the Priest was sent by the Rogers. It but then would they have intervened if they knew. This is turning into a drama; that is what it is, isn’t it. My life is in a drama, at the centre is Beka. But no, I will not have to cut it out to get my life back on track, the big dream. The nerves through me, a pull towards her, this is a fight on whos lifestyle will become the dominant one in the household. That would be interesting to document, but I have no time. That is what has been making everything I do so exhausting.

I haven’t figured it out yet, but. After the trash heap, with the bags shown on full display, the kindest of neighbours told of the rat problem and that their cat had rung up a small bag of baby rats, joked about the cat needing an exorcism. The Priest joked about the cat being divine. Made me think how much a cat would fit the priest antique that is going on. Even though it might have been a cliche in fiction, can you really take away the love of a cat from a person because it is cliche? I haven’t wrapped my head around all this head. I am rolling in bed. At least I am safe now. I am safe now. I’m stuck. I think I feel weirdly safe with doing nothing because of all the anxiety that Beka fills up; there is no more anxiety to go with working on other projects; they gave me comfort before. I was home. My home has changed; I am lost, floating with no place. I must find my way home. I must get home now. Please.

I was born tomorrow or today. Staring out the window on the second floor, off to a garden filled with pets. I think today I will not deal with it and just sleep in for the day.