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10:10 p.m. Fell asleep on the couch last night. Lulled to sleep by the drone of the television and the gentle vibrations of a purring cushion.

4:24 a.m. Your pillow survived the night despite the repeated punches to mold it into some form of shape. Coldness greeted me like an icy hand every time I ventured over to the left side of the bed. The empty side of the bed.

5:37 a.m. Only one cup of coffee this morning. Bare feet on cold wooden floors. Greeted by soft confused mewls.

6:18 a.m. Restlessness hangs in the air like a glider. Silence surrounds the house broken by the cry of birds. The thermometer reads 8C but there will be no heat until October.

7:07 a.m. Wrapped in a comforter like my stubbornness I ponder if you can see little bird breaths like cotton puffs in the cool air. Ten more days before touchdown.