(Slightly, but only slightly, different from most mornings)
Cellphone alarm goes off. Groan. Activate snooze settings for 15 minutes. Bury head under covers.
Alarm goes off. Groan. Snooze for another 15 minutes.
Alarm goes off. Glance at time, shriek at how late it is, scramble out of bed, get tangled in covers and thud to the floor. Every. Damn. Day.
Brush, shower, shampoo, condition. It’s been 3 weeks, so pull out lawn-mower style razor to shave legs and curse hairy South Indian genes inherited from father.
Scramble out of shower, slip on tile floor (at least once a week), unfortunately get glance at self in mirror and further curse South Indian genes for unwanted curves (also known as flab, fat, jelly, blubber) in unattractive places.
Glance at time, shriek again, throw on clothes, forego drying hair, jam on shoes and race down stairs.
Wolf down breakfast (something that used to be skipped earlier, but is now mandatory. Sad…used to save at least 10 minutes before). Notice that long hair has created uncomfortable wet and see-through patches on white shirt. Curse.
Race out of house, hop in car, get stuck in traffic for 20 minutes (despite work being only 10 minutes away), and stop-drop-and-roll out of car when it pulls up in front of office. Very commando-style, kinda cool. Or would be, if my heels didn’t get stuck in my trousers and send me tumbling head-over-ass.
Jam at lift button for few minutes, curse at sloth-like elevator and generally terrify the mild-mannered natives, abandon the foyer area and race up the back stairs.
Clock in with 17 seconds to spare.
Collapse at desk. Only to find computer won’t start. And when it does, the screen’s wonky. And when that’s fixed, the internet won’t work.
What’s the point of waking up everyday??
Bah.
Near-death accidents: 2. Words that would make sailors and truck drivers blush: 8. Bruises on body: 5. Colleagues/clients/IT People/other innocents scared: countless.
And it’s only 10 in the morning.
Cellphone alarm goes off. Groan. Activate snooze settings for 15 minutes. Bury head under covers.
Alarm goes off. Groan. Snooze for another 15 minutes.
Alarm goes off. Glance at time, shriek at how late it is, scramble out of bed, get tangled in covers and thud to the floor. Every. Damn. Day.
Brush, shower, shampoo, condition. It’s been 3 weeks, so pull out lawn-mower style razor to shave legs and curse hairy South Indian genes inherited from father.
Scramble out of shower, slip on tile floor (at least once a week), unfortunately get glance at self in mirror and further curse South Indian genes for unwanted curves (also known as flab, fat, jelly, blubber) in unattractive places.
Glance at time, shriek again, throw on clothes, forego drying hair, jam on shoes and race down stairs.
Wolf down breakfast (something that used to be skipped earlier, but is now mandatory. Sad…used to save at least 10 minutes before). Notice that long hair has created uncomfortable wet and see-through patches on white shirt. Curse.
Race out of house, hop in car, get stuck in traffic for 20 minutes (despite work being only 10 minutes away), and stop-drop-and-roll out of car when it pulls up in front of office. Very commando-style, kinda cool. Or would be, if my heels didn’t get stuck in my trousers and send me tumbling head-over-ass.
Jam at lift button for few minutes, curse at sloth-like elevator and generally terrify the mild-mannered natives, abandon the foyer area and race up the back stairs.
Clock in with 17 seconds to spare.
Collapse at desk. Only to find computer won’t start. And when it does, the screen’s wonky. And when that’s fixed, the internet won’t work.
What’s the point of waking up everyday??
Bah.
Near-death accidents: 2. Words that would make sailors and truck drivers blush: 8. Bruises on body: 5. Colleagues/clients/IT People/other innocents scared: countless.
And it’s only 10 in the morning.
