Free Write: Trailing off and Back Again

The clouds are gray and heavy. The ground is drowning in a endless rainfall. The house is dark and quiet, except for the tick tock ticking of the clock on the wall. I'm trying to start my day, but I feel like it is already night. I am not entirely sure how I'm feeling at this moment- content? Drained? Lonely? Rested? Calm? Tired? My heart is slowly beating, my lids are heavy, my breath is deep and steady. Peaceful. Not ecstatic. The rain is soothing, needed, and welcomed, but it's working too well. I am becoming lethargic, indolent, slow-moving. I am a sloth. I like sloths. Sloths are cute. There is a tea house I like to frequent, and the welcome sign has a painting of a sloth, and he's enjoying tea with his other animal friends. I like that painting. My cat has been letting out a whining meow every forty-seven seconds for the last two hours. I am at my breaking point with him...I don't know what that means. He is breaking the calm, the meow is piercing this silent home, and drowning out the methodical tick tock ticking of my old clock. I like my clock. I like the painting of the sloth more.