I had failed
Hidden above my bed on October 17, 1999.
I remembered what happened to me the next morning.
I arrived back in America, and saw a spotted owl spit at a cat, whereupon the cat promptly ate the owl, spun around, ate its own tail, and wrapped itself up in a cocoon.
My search for the Englebee Troobles was over. I had failed. And I needed to pee.
I returned home and found that Mr. Wilson, my neighbor, was not dead. He was, in fact, quite alive, however not exactly living, per se. I blamed the screaming stars. There was no way I would go into space to see these stars, even if it meant I would find the Englebee Troobles for which I had spent so much time spinning and tunnelling.