I'd called her that, once, to her face. She'd moved me to this room the very next day. For a "saint", she wasn't all that forgiving. Frankly, she probably could stand to act less pleased with herself and her petty maneuvering. She delighted in it, though, and at least I wasn't so petty that I couldn't admit when I'd been bested. So, I had made peace with the sun hitting my face every morning, and had resolved to try to get up at a reasonable hour.