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

Back to the scene of the crime. The crime, of course, is butchering the English language to an extent that realistically supersedes recognition. Still, I soldier on in my efforts to write, or at least to do something that vaguely resembles the act of writing. It is six minutes to 6:00am; my wake-up call on this occasion was a loud admonishment of a house-mate who had apparently snuck out of her bedroom to try and take a shower by herself, at or shortly after 5:00am. (I cannot prove it for a fact but my mind searches for anything that can be considered a justification, when there is not enough evidence to bring forth an accusation.) Unsettling to say the least, and it created a negative energy that set the mood for the next few minutes. Not wanting to provoke her or possibly become the next to feel the wrath, I stayed in my bed for a few minutes. Eventually, the feeling of distress in my body was much too great for me to delay relief any longer. With the hallway lights still off, I got up, put on my blue bathrobe and took a big white towel with me to the bathroom. Mostly without incident, I was able to use the toilet, take a shower, and then use the toilet again. Unfortunately, because ours isn't an industrial-strength toilet, there are times where I will flush, only to observe that not everything has gone down. These are not situations where there is a genuinely excessive amount of waste to be accounted for; even with the most reasonable amount you can think of, there are times where bits will still be floating around. On some occasions, I would just leave those bits to float, trusting that a certain older house-mate will account for the rest on his visit. I didn't have that luxury this time, or should I say I didn't trust that I would be able to reasonably leave these matters unattended to. My train of thought is temporarily derailed by the master of cool T-shirts and shrieks, who engages in a singing session that remains surprisingly, yet admirably, subdued. His song having come to a conclusion that is satisfactory for him and all in earshot, I bring the train back on the tracks and continue. Sticking around for about a minute, I wait for the toilet to return to a neutral ('silent') mode so that I can flush it again. This time around, the flush is successful. Proceeding to wash my hands, I hear the older gentleman softly tell the CNA that he needs to go to the bathroom. She tells him to go back in his room and wait. I am well aware of the frequency with which he seeks for relief, and not wanting to delay the proceedings, I wash my hands quickly, yet as thoroughly as I can while making a conscious, purposeful effort to speed up the process. Shortly before my departure, I notice a few mop strands peek through the bottom of the doorway. The CNA is mopping the hallway, a very nice thing of her to do. Aside from making an amazing bowl of oatmeal she mops more frequently than anyone else; it is for those reasons that I am willing to put up with the moments where she gets stressed or frustrated. Upon leaving the bathroom, she kindly escorts me back to my room and encourages me to sit in my chair or on my bed while the floor in my room dries; she actually mopped it while I was in the shower. Opting for the bed, my body still adorned in the bath robe, I sit for a spell as the computer voice of the National Weather Service continues to quietly resonate in the background. Less than five minutes later, I get up to turn off the fan, which she turned on while I was in here, remembering how much I enjoy it. While under normal circumstances it is a treat to feel that cool air blowing on me, I am still dealing with some sniffling and blowing my nose, and do not want to put myself at risk of getting a cold again. One breakfast and two bags of trash taken out later, I grab my phone and play Candy Crush Saga for a few minutes. Yesterday, I had finally figured out how boosters worked, and went on two long streaks of 10+ wins, completing a lot of levels that I may not have otherwise finished so quickly. This morning, I revisited a tough level that had done me in the night before; after a few failed attempts, I managed to clear it. Though I technically had infinite lives (not that it matters), I managed to finish it in few enough attempts that with the regulation five, I would have had one or two left over when I was done. I am not sure if I have been returned to five, but it does not matter to me. I needed that level, and another one, to win my most recent "Champions' Race". According to the information found under the "Events" tab I am on a six-race winning streak, and currently lead in a seventh. I have to wait just under seven minutes before I can attempt the next level again, having indeed been returned to five lives and lost my last two on that level...and this isn't even listed as a 'hard' level. Sure enough, I get a chance to try again, and again I do not succeed. I only have two gold bars left of forty that were earned as a result of winning the last Champions' Race, and unwittingly spent thirty-eight of them on boosters that promptly went to waste. The song of a nearby bird draws my attention away from ruminating on my recent virtual losses, once again reminding me of the beauty of the nature our Creator has given to us. The sun is now out, and shining. Leaving my room for a moment to use the bathroom, I dance in the hallway for a few seconds as the older gentleman leaves and informs me that he is done. I ask him if he needs assistance with anything; he answers with a humble yet definitive 'no'. My browser is open to several tabs: an upload of Hiroki Miyano's 1991 album "Rakuen on Earth" (though it's credited to him as he was under contract to WEA Music at the time [from what I understand], it is technically a compilation album as he's been joined by several special guests; he contributed only three of the ten songs, and the first of those contributions does not appear in the sequencing until halfway through), my FAU Gmail inbox, and the Twitter page of Jessica Kardos, a wonderful voice actress who is also experienced as a production coordinator. She is best known for her work as Sue Ellen on the long-running "Arthur" series, succeeding Patricia Rodriguez, who originated the role and played the part for the first eight seasons; Kardos took over starting with the first season of the spinoff show "Postcards from Buster", and later joined the "Arthur" cast in the tenth season (Sue Ellen had no lines at all in the ninth). A friend of hers from America recently shared a YouTube video of the song "Dear Mr. Ratburn", and was nice enough to tag Kardos in the post; unfortunately, Kardos (who was born, raised and still lives in Montreal) could not watch it, as for whatever reason it has been blocked in Canada--a grand irony by any metric, as much of the show was done in Quebec. I had been reluctant to say anything to Kardos, not wanting to disturb her or come off as a weird 'stalker' fan. It looked like I now had my chance to finally thank her for her work, and so I downloaded the video using an Invidious instance, making sure to retrieve the 720p version for best quality. Fortunately, as the video was well under the 2:20 limit Twitter imposes for non-premium users, I was able to post it without any issues. "Thank you for doing such a wonderful job as Sue Ellen," I wrote. "I still cherish Arthur to this day. Best wishes!"