I've been craving eggs all day

I blame the truckers. This morning, half-awake, I could hear a semi idling. Changing drivers, I imagine, or maybe the driver was grabbing breakfast at The Prospector Inn down the street. I turned over, knowing the diesel engine would lull me back to sleep as they've been doing for months now. They must have a contract to haul high-grade sand around the clock. The semis now act as my alarm. My sedative.

The cat, hearing me move, jumped on the bed and began to purr along with the engine, bunting me the whole time. I ignored her, but that only egged her on. Unable to doze back off, I began to wonder how many hourglasses a truckload of sand could fill. Simple enough to calculate if one knew how much the trailer holds and the volume of sand each hourglass requires. But there are variables. I suspect no two grains of sand were created equal. It's the matter of three-dimensional space. How much is occupied. And no two loads weigh the same. Consider the axles. No one has time for this.

After a while the semi pulled away, shifting quietly. How much time is it hauling, I wondered as the cat bunted me again. Maybe a few years' worth. Or maybe just three minutes. Just enough to fill one giant egg timer. It would take one helluva giant to turn it over.