The clock winked its red eye, and she stared it from her bed. She wiggled her toes under the sheet. Birdsong came through the open window. It would seem that an entire flock was hanging in a tight cloud right behind the blind, singing without rest. The ceiling fan spun in wobbly circles on the ceiling, and pipes from the shower were groaning in the walls. The day ahead was going to be like yesterday. Tomorrow would be the same.