Format the following passage properly, for storytelling purposes. Keep it as written, don't change a single word, but improve grammar where necessary.

It's the dawn of a new day, daybreak the enemy of both procrastinators and insomniacs the world over. Insomnia has never been less of a problem; since getting into the habit of going to bed at reasonable times each night, I have noticed myself feeling better each day. People tell me my skin is glowing, that I have lost weight, that I exude more confidence. There is a lot to be said for getting those recommended eight hours of sleep, though by my own admission I usually end up getting seven. Having recently been contacted by one of my stepfather's relatives, I have gotten to know her, and in more ways than one have been catching up on a lot of things I missed out on learning while he was around. Every so often, he would mention people close to him, without going into any particulars on certain of the qualities that make (or made) them unique or extraordinary. I can recall several instances of him mentioning a relative named George. Little did I know that he was referring to none other than George Thomas, a retired American professional baseball player who primarily played the outfielder position--in fact, he played every position aside from pitcher at least once--and was a member of the 1967 'Impossible Dream' Boston Red Sox, who not only finished with a winning record for the first time since 1958 but managed to beat out the Detroit Tigers and Minnesota Twins to capture the American League pennant and made it all the way to the World Series, ultimately losing to the formidable St. Louis Cardinals (but not before taking them all the way to game seven). The idea of being related, albeit not by blood, to someone who found himself one victory away from being a world champion is nothing short of extraordinary. I can only imagine the kinds of stories he must have, as someone who played in three different decades, starting in 1957 and finishing in 1971. Before I know it, it is after 9:00pm, and we both find ourselves needing to turn in for the night. We say our goodbyes, but she is kind enough to take screenshots of a photo album on Facebook. It is one of the closest things to stepping into a time machine, and I cannot help but admire the vintage signs and designs. Seeing a young Thomas holding his bat with grim determination, staring intently into the distance, I am reminded of the courage and the dignity it takes to be an athlete at the professional level. He doubtlessly showed the same mettle as a coach; in his 'final act' in baseball, he became a head coach at the University of Minnesota in 1972, eventually serving as the head coach of the Minnesota Golden Gophers from 1979 to 1981, leading them to a 95-43 record, a Big Ten Conference divisional championship, and a berth in the 1981 NCAA Division I baseball tournament (which was ultimately won by Arizona State, who captured their fifth and most recent championship as a result; though it has been over forty years since the last win, the five wins puts them fourth all-time for the most of any school). This year will mark his eighty-seventh birthday, according to an article on Wikipedia which has his birthday listed as November 29, 1937. It's astonishing enough to be related to a former professional athlete, but doubly so to be related to one who has their own Wikipedia article, with a surprisingly fleshed-out summary of his playing career. As best as I can sum it up, Thomas began his career as a Major League Baseball player with the Detroit Tigers, signing a $25,000 bonus contract in 1957 (good money for the time) and briefly playing in one game in his debut season. Over the next few years, he quickly moved through the minor leagues and returned to the Tigers' main roster in 1961. That same year, he was sold to the Los Angeles Angels, where he saw more playing opportunities and achieved a .280 batting average. His career also included a stint in the Army, causing him to miss a significant portion of the 1962 season. Following his time with the Angels, he returned to the Tigers and then moved to the Red Sox in 1965, where he played a utility and pinch-hitting role. He participated in the 1967 World Series with the Red Sox, marking their first appearance since 1946; had they won, it would have marked Boston's first MLB title in almost fifty years, ending a drought which ultimately did end in 2004. (Ironically, the Red Sox found themselves facing the Cardinals in all three series.) Thomas concluded his MLB career with the Twins in 1971, accumulating a .255 batting average over 685 games, with 430 hits, including 71 doubles, 9 triples, and 46 home runs. A career encompassing significant contributions, by any metric that is meaningful. I hear bird songs outside, and a lone car horn. Having turned off my radio, finding myself unable to keep it on as atmospheric noise this morning (it did the job quite well last night during my rest), I am able to focus on details that would not otherwise be so easily discernible, though some would say I have issues with concentration. I was never officially diagnosed with attention deficit disorder, but have observed a tendency to go from subject to subject. Still, this is one of the great aspects of the writing process: giving yourself something to work with, seeing how the words fall into place. Before I know it, it's 6:00am. The time now seems right to make some early preparations for the work day ahead. Applying some Odor Eaters to my trusty slip-resistant sneakers, I slip on the socks, then slip into the shoes. I sit down in front of my computer again, feeling relaxed, before realizing I'm not wearing my blue denim cap. "Not a problem," I think to myself, as I rise to retrieve it from its designated location on a high right-hand shelf in the closet. Now, everything is coming together as intended. I grab my faded brown FAU wallet, which has been in daily use for the last fourteen years, along with my reliable blue earbuds (that had once belonged to my stepfather more than a decade ago). Believe it or not, I am actually going to be taking my phone with me to work today. It is an idea I had been reluctant about implementing, not wanting to put it in danger of being compromised or lost. To be honest, I am still somewhat reluctant. However, as yesterday marked the return, after a nearly two-week hiatus, of a dear friend and one of my favorite co-workers, I've decided to bring back our tradition of listening to music before shifts and during breaks, on the condition that my phone will stay in the break room during the shift (as I spend much of a given shift washing and drying dishes, I do not want to risk getting the phone wet). And of course, I'm going to have to be careful not to lose the phone on the way to or from work. I can recall one afternoon, not too long ago, where I had left it in the van. Freeing up my hands to hold both my lunchbox and a house-mate's backpack, it was placed on my seat, rather than in my right pocket where it usually goes. Fortunately, the CNA who was in charge that afternoon was nice enough to unlock the van; I promptly retrieved it and was much more careful afterwards (save, of course, for the accidental drop that necessitated purchasing a new one). We have been called for breakfast; as I sit down at the table, I notice that my house-mate (the 'shrieker' known for his cool shirts) is wearing one with an overhead view of a basketball court. What a funny coincidence it would have been if it were a baseball diamond. Still, it beats my plain red number by a long shot, and then some.