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

4:48am. This may be quite literally the earliest I've ever sat down to write up a piece. It started with needing to use the bathroom almost half an hour ago. I was tempted to try and get some more rest but felt a 'phenomenon' developing. To deny it actualization would be permitting myself constipation. Realizing that the house manager is in and taking care of things today, I know we operate on a more disciplined program with her in charge. I figured I would feed two birds with one piece of bread, and get up not only to relieve myself but to get an early start on the day by getting a shower out of the way. This time around I did leave the bed unmade, though ironically I may have been opening myself up to a greater risk of an unexpected room inspection, for Lord knows how early the manager herself has arisen from her slumber. Perhaps she did beat me to the rise, but has remained more surreptitious in so doing. (After all, I've never been known for my powers of stealth; for more reasons than simply my weight, I would have never made for a good ninja, or an espionage agent.) I had left my blue bathrobe and a white towel on my computer chair, to have quick access to them in the morning (it's another way of cutting down on my time elapsed in getting to the bathroom to shower, remembering how I had taken long enough to get a somewhat frustrated reminder from the manager on Monday, though this was by no means intentional). Grabbing them, and with my underwear already on (as they always are during my night slumbers), I opened up my door, gently closed it, and headed to the designated men's bathroom. The hallway lights were not on at that time; it is now 4:56am, and they have not been on. Just as I type this, I hear a sound in the distance. I could not tell you for certain what it is, but I would harbor a guess that it is a toilet seat being put down. One of my housemates has a strange tendency to put it up and keep it up before leaving the bathroom. If he comes back to find the seat is down again, he may already have a good feeling of who reverted it, but has been nice enough not to say anything to me about it. (Or perhaps he presumes the manager or a CNA did it, and has enough respect not to question the process.) A symphony of doors opening and closing begins. It is now one minute to 5:00am. People are beginning to rise, the cycle starts once again. In about one hour "Arthur" will be shown on WPBT-TV. It is an episode from Season 15, the last before they abandoned the last remaining traces of the traditional art style that had been in use since the first season, and switched to much cheaper Flash animation. (Granted, I do enjoy many of those episodes, but the feeling wasn't the same after that...and perhaps it didn't need to be.) That episode will be rebroadcast on WLRN-TV at 7:00, and WXEL-TV at 7:30. In a testament to the rarity of my getting up, "MyDefrag" (my preferred tool for defragmenting my hard drive; it works great on 32-bit Windows XP and has been known to work without a hitch on 64-bit Windows 10 [confirmed by my own testing]) has commenced an automatic maintenance period. There's no option during initial installation to turn it off; it has to be manually disabled by the end user. Fortunately, the combination of "Pause" and "Exit" is totally suitable in this case. I am not sure what the mood of the day will be, but I am looking forward to whatever it has in store. Being able to glance to my right and see the radiance of a streetlight is a truly potent reminder of the beauty of the fading night. It won't be long before that light goes off, as there will be no more need for it for approximately another twelve hours. I wonder: how early will we eat today? What kind of mood will the manager be in? Will we be having oatmeal again, lovingly crafted with her perfected method that allows every bite to almost pop in your mouth? I know for a fact I will be seeing one of my good friends again, a coworker who likes me to join her for yoga, boxing and a smattering of other events. Provided she hasn't been struck by lightning, or abducted by extraterrestrials, I should see her quite soon. I am filled with anticipation. To most people this would be a mundane life. I am very comfortable in this knowledge for I realize that so much of life, and our experience of this reality, comes down to perception. Every day is a unique experience. We can only go by routine to such a level before fate necessitates our escape from the box. There's only so much we can do to stay on a certain program, and even in such acquiescence to that which is familiar to us, events will occur that we can do precious little to be truly prepared for. No two conversations are the same, no two encounters are the same. And most importantly, no two people are the same. I am reminded of a saying emblazoned onto a coffee cup that once belonged to my mother: "I love God's children, but sometimes some of them get on my nerves." (Or something to that effect; I am paraphrasing, but that is the overall gist.) Though it is frustrating to be treated with disrespect, I have come to learn the importance of being loving and patient with others, no matter how they treat us. I remember learning of Marcus Aurelius, and the philosophy of stoicism, which dictates that we have no power to control what others do but retain the power, in perpetuity, to control our reactions to their actions. Going back to what I mentioned in a prior piece, where there is meanness, there is pain. Pain only worsens pain. Only love can heal pain. I glance to my left and am surprised; it's now 5:15am and the hallway light remains off. Perhaps I've overachieved in terms of rising to the occasion, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I think of my time at the drama program yesterday, and how happy it made my instructor to know that I wanted to do a Willy Loman monologue from "Death of a Salesman." I have an idea in mind as to exactly which one, but ironically, I had forgotten that he has multiple monologues in the Pulitzer Prize-winning play, one that continues to stimulate imaginations nearly eighty years after it was completed and first performed. I had been vague in being specific in my last piece, and quickly open it up to rectify my oversights before returning to Notepad. For the most part, it was an enjoyable session but once again I find myself having to balance my compassionate side, my serious side, and the side that wants to be goofy. Being surrounded by many students who deal with a variety of intellectual challenges, who have different ways of processing this state of existence from my own, I am moved to see what makes all of them unique. They are trying their best in a world that was not truly meant for them. Fast-forwarding to a karaoke session, our last activity on the itinerary before dismissal, a housemate lightheartedly tells a drama classmate she'll show them 'how it's supposed to be done', as she breaks into an off-key rendition of "Good Morning, Baltimore", from the soundtrack for the movie Hairspray. I can feel the energy in how she sings. I was not put on the spot to do a song, but would have probably busted out Kool Moe Dee's classic "I Go to Work". Perhaps I will do some of that one at boxing on Thursday. Much as Al Bundy remembers his four touchdowns, I still remember the feeling I felt doing that one at a high school talent show. It's a timeless song; Moe Dee's analogies remain fresh and relevant today.