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

5:30am exactly. And so it continues. I was greeted this morning by a relatively gentle knock followed by an acknowledgment that I can take a shower. Not wasting any time, I proceeded to grab my bathrobe and one of my large white towels and head to the bathroom. It seems that my showers always tend to be preceded by one 'number', or both, and even after the shower was over I had to return for another 'performance', if you will. Fortunately, the CNA currently in charge (the young lady who has been filling in all week for an older woman who usually works on weekday mornings; she's normally assigned to the weekend shifts anyway, so she would've been here this morning regardless of the circumstances) was preoccupied with helping another house-mate take a shower, so I was able to return without having to worry about being sent back to my room, or ordered to go back to wherever I was if I were not here (in all probability the living room, where most of my house-mates spend much of the day). A certain older house-mate's trips to the bathroom seem to have become problematic for the staff in charge as of late, given the frequency with which they have occurred. Just a few days ago, as we arrived at the day program, all of the residents (or, again, 'clients' as this is what we are classified as by JARC) were asked to vacate the van sans this older house-mate, who is on his way to a doctor's appointment. An effort made to inform the driver that he needed to go "real bad" was met with an exasperated "we don't have time for that right now!" Perhaps this doctor is quite strict about patients showing up late for their appointments, and as I don't know all the details in this case, it would be unfair of me to make presumptions as to whether denying him a fast trip to the 'laboratory' was the best course of action. It became a problem yesterday too, when we headed to the Cinemark Palace 20--my first time visiting a movie theater since my parents passed away--to see a showing of "If." (Quite a good movie, by the way.) As we headed into the 'home stretch', with the film almost over, I could hear this older house-mate--in a whisper that was somehow loud enough for me to clearly hear every word from another row--getting up to head to the bathroom before being ordered by a CNA, in an equally loud 'whisper', to stay in his seat. Several minutes later, he eventually did get to go, but not without supervision from that CNA. This is the largest theater I've been to in a while, and sitting in the dedicated room for the screening, there were many things to appreciate. The room itself was not terribly massive but made for a captivating viewing experience. I found myself particularly drawn to the murals decorating the walls to my left and right, and how they seemed to recall the old "Arabian Nights" stories. Quite fitting for a 'palace' indeed. Having been in my group home for more than a month now, I have already become familiar with how things work. It is a disciplined system, everything structured on routines, everyone expected to carry their weight and do their fair share. I am now past the point of being the 'darling' of the group, and find myself on much more equal footing. Even so, I seem to be getting a fairer shake compared to the more vulnerable 'clients' with whom I share the sanctity of this home. For the most part, I am left alone, though there are times where I am called on to attend to certain responsibilities. When those obligations arise, I meet them with as many "yes, ma'am" and "no ma'am" acknowledgments as I can possibly muster. In general, I strive to be as respectful as possible. I've seen with my own two eyes a few of the frustrating inconveniences that these CNAs have to deal with. I realize that it can be, and oftentimes is, a stressful job. I hear the stress manifest in the CNA's voice, as she asks a house-mate to pick something up. I heard it earlier, even while I was taking my shower; at the same time I was showering, she was assisting a vulnerable female house-mate with hers. Though I realize she is stressed out, it is still deeply troubling and saddening to hear someone who is trying her absolute best, who is dealing with long-since-apparent limitations as it is pertinent to her physical and mental expressiveness, being chided for whatever 'mistakes' she makes during the process. The sad irony is not so much that this CNA may live long enough to one day find herself in the position of the roles being reversed, with her no longer as a caretaker but a recipient of care, but that she is the mother of a young son. I don't know all the details of that situation and would not dare presume to, but I can only hope that she treats her son more graciously than she has treated certain others in this house. My attention shifts to a chorus of birds engaging in a symphony far off in the distance, yet close enough for me to discern almost every note as though it were being played through the Roland MA-12 speakers that rest atop my desktop computer. Tilting my head west, I glance through a nearby window. The sky, as I can discern it at this time, is a dark blue that should evolve into the calm pastel to which I've grown accustomed. A streetlight remains luminescent as it has been all night. The trees are calm, almost motionless. Whatever winds of change are destined to move them have not yet decided to pay them a visit. With a northwestern glance, I detect another streetlight that also retains its luminescence right now, creating a seeming optical illusion of a glowing tree. The birds continue to sing, and in their songs I feel a sense of encouragement, of optimism, of hope. I am reminded of a beautiful message that my friend Sonja recently sent me, where she humbly reflects on her desire to lead a peaceful existence: "You know, I must admit that [certain] things do not affect me much because I try and kind of surrender concerns...I only have so much control over things and I just want to feel joy every day. Truly this is not just words but a way of life for me. I don't always succeed...because misery is just one thought away sometimes. But I let go of a lot of things." Once again, I am reminded that every day, when I'm walking down the virtual street, everybody that I meet has an original point of view. Her perspective is so wonderful and relatable. And sure enough, just as I have accounted for what she said, I hear a breakfast call go out that is swiftly answered. No one has to come and get me, thankfully! (It's happened to me a few times, and though I can't help those involuntary moments of cheek redness when it does occur, I am able to play off my unintentional lateness more humorously now than I would have in my youth; after all it's not such a big deal in the grand scheme of things.) Having returned to my room, I see that the streetlights are off, as sunrise has transitioned to daybreak. I also see that the Panthers are going to the 2024 Stanley Cup Finals, and realize that my prediction about the Rangers turned out to be horribly wrong. The Panthers' will to win prevailed over the Rangers' finesse, and they eliminated a team that had won the Presidents' Trophy, a team that had seemed all but destined to capture their first Stanley Cup in thirty years. Now, they must wait to see whether they face Edmonton or Dallas in the finals. Should the Oilers finish off the Stars, they have a chance to become Canada's first NHL champs in over three decades.