Day four, in which we emerge from the fog

At approximately two-thirty in the morning, as I was finally deep in slumber, a demon rose from the bowels of hell and, taking the form of a dog, began to bark somewhere out there in the darkness. After about twenty minutes, just enough time to make sure I was thoroughly awake, he slunk back into the night and all was silent.

This morning I put feet on the floor, hefted my bulk to an upright position and staggered through a drugged haze to feed the dogs and get ready to face school where I must give two final exams. The song I found going through my head was an old classic, but unfortunately, I only remembered the first three lines, so the loop was short.

"Great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts,
mutilated monkey meat,
french-fried flamingo feet..."

It was time to take a bath. As I relaxed into warm bubbly water and felt the crusted gunk start to melt away…the puppy whined to be let in. She had finished digging in the dirt and she really, really needed to come in just at that very moment. And when the whining didn't work, she tried out her new grown-up dog bark. BARK BARK BARK. Oh, hey, that was fun!

Time to get out of the bath.

It's almost seven a.m. and I have assumed human form, or as close as I'm going to get this morning. Pity my students.