And the buckets placed sporadically outside, catching rain water, can easily be turned upside down in order to be stood upon when reaches are too great for arms. And the cats meow ironically sounds like your clock radio. That same clock radio that so often inconsiderately wakes you from a slumber deeper than the depths of hell. And when you hit snooze you feel as if time has stopped. And when you lose your place in your dream, life no longer works like the lights in your room that when turned on stay off. And the window opens up outside to one of those buckets collecting water used to wash whatever happens to be dirty. Today it’s the flowers laying in beds of mud. Wilting away from excessive torture from this and that. yesterday it was the front walk, dusted dirty by trampling feet and wind blown erosion. But still before all this is done, first things first. Snooze goes off on the treacherous clock and again you think about slamming the button so hard the numbers fall back, but you don’t. your dream is done and reality has lit up thanks to the blazing sun. get up and out of bed for only depression could keep you down and we want, more than anything, to not show that part of life.