He wakes up. He is energized. He is fully of energy. He watches the dust motes dance in the beams of light and he is filled with joy at their random dance and then he spend twenty minutes trying to balance the hot and cold taps in the shower in the bath and it kills his mood a touch. Then he drives safely and then he eats some breakfast and he does not feel well after he eats that breakfast but not not well enough to vomit everywhere. Then he counts light bulbs and counts gels and cleans things and does productive things and then he makes things and does art and design and his back screams with pain so he cannot sit down he thinks he really must see a professional about that and then he realizes he has to make pies for Thanksgiving so he goes to buy the ingredients and he does not have enough money and the automated teller shames him when he swipes his cards as it says very loudly in a suprised tone of voice oh I’m sorry it seems that your card has been declined as if it feels bad for him but he is judging and the bright red face that beams out of the beard and the hat and the hood shines and draws attention to it and he has to ask for human help and the human kindly helps and removes some items from his cart and this fixes the problem but as he walks home in the rain his back in pain he wonders why the screaming surprise of the automated machine refusing his card why it has to be so loud and why the light has to flash and why he has to be shamed in public and then he makes a sandwich and then he makes four pies and then he reads and he writes and he changes clothes for pyjamas and then he has a hot chocolate and then he goes to sleep.