George pulled the draw cord down. Once the hatch was within arm's reach he grabbed the bottom rung of the folding ladder and began opening it up. He climbed the tumbledown ladder slowly into the attic. Every floating particle in the confined space was irradiated by incoming sunlight; two dormer windows afforded enough natural light that no artificial light was needed during the day. George continued across the attic to his desk, which was placed below the western-most window, leaving a trapezoid of light showing on the desktop. He reached into the top drawer and withdrew a brown, fabric, hard-covered journal. He pulled a handful of pens out of the same drawer and tested each one on a scrap piece of paper until settling for a point-seven millimeter blue ballpoint. George opened the notebook, the flaring sun illuminating the white pages, and reviewed his previous entries:
GEORGE'S JARGONS
Colder than a freezer in the North Pole, January 23rd, 1942
Happier than a tickled hyena, June 19th, 1948
Scared as a possum in a graveyard, January 3rd, 1950
He then added:
Slept like a baby, March 15th, 1953