The master bathroom toilet overflowed in the middle of the night. The poor Frenchman was unable to summon me from where I slept in the other room, and I’m glad because I had fallen headlong into bed at just before 10pm.

Still, I woke up at 4:30am.

What the fuck is up with 4:30am?

I wake up at that time, give or take a couple of minutes, almost every goddamn morning, no matter what time I go to bed, no matter where I’m sleeping. I usually go back to sleep. Sometimes I don’t.

“Under the Twilight, Rising” was inspired by this problem when I had it almost five years ago. I had a medical explanation back then for it, but now I think it’s an alien experiment.

(I did not wake up at 4:30am in France. Not ever.)

Regardless, I’m pooped. I had to deal with the overflowed bathroom at 6:38am before I could pry my eyes halfway open. The landlord sent someone to take care of it who arrived around 10am, but I’m still running ragged.

I told The Frenchman that he simply has to stop banging the toilet with his crutch. I’m mean, huh?