The wind blew and rustled the tent most of the night. I slept poorly. As forecast, it rained briefly, or perhaps a disgruntled coyote urinated on the tent — I didn’t bother to get up to check — in retaliation for my dubious decision to avoid the long walk to the bio-hazard restroom in the dark, instead opting to utilize a heretofore dry patch of nearby sand before I retired. Entombed in my sleeping bag, I tossed and turned endlessly. Perhaps I mistakenly crawled into a waking bag.