I've been up awhile, although it took me an honestly embarrassing amount of time laying there in bed to figure out if it was actually morning or if I'd just been woken up again by the goat bleating, the goat gnawing on something I probably couldn't replace, Kira cussing the goat out, Kira throwing things at the goat... You get the idea. The quality of the morning light is about as good as it had been the night before, all thin and gray. Days like these, I really wish I had a watch.

Dressed in my long johns, I step out into the living room and blink blearily at the door. I can't lie; I'm kind of sorry the goat didn't just keep going.

"Guess we're staying in today. It's fucking cold, close the door."

So much for that famous Mark Watney hospitality.