In some vague dark hour this morning, the bird outside our window launched into its "hey-everybody-the-sun's-about-to-come-up" song. It was very enthusiastic and very persistent.
The sun didn't come up.
Half-an-hour later, the bird was still proclaiming the onset of day. The sky was still dark. I looked at the clock: one-thirty—off by a long shot. I eventually sank back into a now-slightly-jumbled slumber as the bird continued its undiminished cry.
What does that mean? It is, I assume, another sign that the end days are upon us. Weird, man, weird.