Good morning, you little prick -- I mean, sunshine

It's morning.

My alarm has gone off, and for once, there's a breeze with a slight coolness coming through the curtains. I stretch, and kick off the cotton duvet (and my lovely 400-thread-count sheets). Through the curtains, I can tell the morning is pearly and grey.

I sit up, and gather one curtain to tie it back.

And I am greeted by cold, calculating beady eyes.

The Squirrel grasps the window ledge (fortunately, it is outside my bedroom window... but that could change easily enough -- perhaps I will need nightly protection after all). Its tail twitches in annoyance. We glare at each other, before it scrabbles off, its tiny nails scratching at the wooden ledge.

I know that if I had a chance to have some caffeine, I might have been able to think of some incredibly clever insult for it. Something completely debilitating. Scathing. Something that would have shaken The Squirrel's self-confidence, and cemented my position as the superior species... Lost. All lost.

I must now prepare myself for a day of warfare. It's impossible to work under these conditions.