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

Thirteen minutes to 6:00am. The reverberation of a door being shut has just resonated in proximity of my room. The sun has yet to commence its rise and the only illumination outside is originating from a nearby streetlight. In a little more than ten minutes' time, the first showing of "Arthur" will begin on WPBT-TV. Today's episode is "April 9th", a rare two-parter that deals with a fire at Lakewood and the impact it has on its students,exploring a range of reactions from several different perspectives. It was first broadcast in the United States in November 2002, a little more than one full year after the terrorist attacks that took place on September 11, 2001. It is among the series' heaviest, most emotional episodes, and I am glad that they gave themselves the luxury of a full half-hour, instead of trying to compress it into the normal eleven minutes normally allotted to episodes. Thinking about all of the ideas that the writers must have had but couldn't incorporate, it leads me to reflect on the state of my own writing. Will it be possible to account for all of these words? How much, if anything, would a prospective publisher ask me to omit? Would I be able to keep everything? What would have to go? Would I end up having to self-publish? It is not an idea I am opposed to, but I know I'd be at a disadvantage as I would not have access to the resources of the major publishers. And if that is the price I must pay to preserve what I've written without compromises, I am willing to give up any advantages I would gain by compromising. I focus on the screen, my heart tuned halfway to my thoughts and halfway to the beautiful vocal performances of the Montreal voice actors who gave their all on "Arthur" for more than twenty years. I try to imagine some of them in the studio as they were working on this episode. They are normal people, the same as you and me, with a special ability. They may not have been bitten by radioactive spiders, or excessively exposed to gamma radiation, but their ability to convey emotions across a broad range, to bring the thoughts in creative imaginations to life, is just as inspiring. I reflect again on Sonja and Pat, and the positive difference they've made in my life. Though Pat is not from Montreal himself, he has worked on various projects produced in Quebec, and has had the opportunity to meet and work with several local Montreal-based performers. I am very honored to count him among my friends and am deeply grateful for the exchanges we have had. Sonja has been quite busy with various priorities, but has assured me that things might work out. I still reflect on her words every day, and think about what it would be like to eventually meet her. In my mind, I explore different possibilities, yet believe that my imagination can do it no justice. I am able to faintly decipher a house-mate calling out to let me know that breakfast is being served and temporarily abandon my chambers to enjoy a balanced meal. One bowl of Cheerios, a cup of coffee, a glass of orange juice, a cup of water, a fruit platter and three small bagels with slivers of cream cheese later I have returned, but not before taking out the garbage. It's a responsibility I've taken over from the same house-mate who called out to me, the one who seems to do so at least once each day as I've become the hermit I vowed not to be. There are plenty of puzzles to stimulate the mind, CDs to listen to. I am tempted to take some of them and digitize the tracks into 320kbps MP3 format but I'm not sure how scratch-afflicted they are. A track ruined by scratches would be a temptation to try and get a fresh copy, and I'm a bit reluctant to spend any of my escrow on a CD when it could just as easily go towards more deodorant or any other hygiene necessity. One big bag, one small bag, a little bit of cardboard in tow I head west to the nearby dumpster. I know better than to actually go near it now so I toss the items in from a distance to avoid intimate association with the flies that populate it on a daily basis. Watching the 7:00am showing of "April 9th" on WLRN-TV, I pay more attention to a detail I had noticed earlier: while the episode titles that normally appear on title cards are shown at angles, the text seeming to curve in a manner that exudes lighthearted excitement, this time it is perfectly straight, apropos for the seriousness of the subject matter being discussed. They refused to make light of the topic, realizing it was still hitting very close to home for quite a few people. I give WGBH and PBS respect for not vetoing the production of this episode, though they would've been within their rights to do so and I do not believe anyone would have internally disputed the decision. The writing retains the signature humor of "Arthur" while exploring the deeper contexts with dignity. Things are different this morning; as our house manager is not running the show as she had yesterday, the CNA who is normally in charge on weekday mornings is taking care of things. She can be somewhat temperamental herself, but it is actually easier to work with her. I got a good sleep last night and was able to comfortably rest a few minutes past 5:00pm. There was no pressure, no admonitions to get out of bed, but I did get my bathrobe and towel almost immediately after rising from my slumber, to practice for the future possibility of the house manager being in charge again on a future morning. This time around, I am not going to waste any time making my bed beforehand; while I will never be the sharpest tool in the shed, I am smart enough to not incur the wrath of someone who has enough stress to deal with every day. I realize that when someone is mean, it is usually because they are dealing with pain. And we cannot mitigate pain with more pain. The others do not seem to speak up, but it is uncertain as to whether it is out of fear of repercussions, or a similar understanding to the one I've reached. As the end credits finish, I stop for a moment to admire the beauty of the old instrumental theme, and the iconic WGBH logo's CGI animation (a remake of early 1990s CGI that itself was a remake of motion-controlled animation, as the technology was not as advanced when the original logo debuted in January 1977). A third showing of "April 9th" is being broadcast on WXEL-TV; I turn the TV back on, having already missed the first five minutes. As "Arthur" aired its last episode two years ago, it'll probably be a while before there is any chance of the show being taken out of rerun circulation, but I still consider the possibility of a day coming when I can no longer catch it on a daily basis. I glance out the window and consider the idea that at least some of the butterflies I've seen may have actually been dragonflies. From my vantage point, it is hard to tell the difference. No matter what they were, I cannot deny their beauty. Upon heading outside, I saw several flying around and witnessed birds flying eastward and westward, their individual songs combining in an immaculately meshed symphony. Today, I will be staying after work for drama class. I already have an idea of what I'd like to do for the summer (or fall) showcase: a performance of the iconic Willy Loman monologue from Arthur Miller's "Death of a Salesman". I think I've managed to memorize it, and if time permits I am hoping to perform it for the class. My respect for the heart and sincerity of acting is growing.