However, the once therapeutic ticking is now driving you mad. You cannot get to sleep; no matter how many times you change position, no matter how many times you fluff your pillow or turn it over to the cooler side, you cannot bring yourself into the blissful silence of sleep. You sit up, glancing at the clock. It reads 12:52. "Fifteen minutes?! It feels like it's been an hour..." you think to yourself. Nothing. You grunt and grumble to yourself, cursing the darkness. The kitchen is only illuminated by a small wall light, on the counter, plugged into an outlet. And then you see it. The wall.