Five ticks past 11 at night. I’m liable to argue with myself about how to roll out of the bed when the alarm sounds and the neighbor’s rooster crows a calling response in the morning. I greet the day, a habitual grudge, as the morning is forever coming too soon. A whispered, “Fffffucking hell” upon waking, or a happy thought for the two minutes I still have to rest until the alarm goes off again. Five minutes before 7 is as early as I have been able to force myself to wake.

Monday through Friday after the last minute moment of rest is caught, I fling my legs off my bed in groggy and immediate search for the pants and t shirt I wore the day before and the day before that. I allow myself 35 minutes exactly to greet, breakfast, and don the children in their outfits. Quickly weaving out of outfit arguments, rhythmically encouraging swift cereal spooning, eschewing the notion that socks should match, brushing a quick tooth, inevitably yanking a hair too hard mid sweep. Tears. Sighs. Kisses. 7:40. Public school starts too early.

There is supposed to be a blood moon tonight, and there likely is somewhere. Here there is only an orange glow casting off some low clouds to northeast. Can’t see no blood moon. Only stars I’m seeing is the glowing lights on the tops of the cell phone towers across the railroad tracks up Lee Street. Can’t see nothing. It’s quiet out, though.

Blood Moon. AKA Total Lunar Eclipse. Somewhere Else. Not currently visible to me.