It’s a much-hated process, getting up in the morning.
I hear the melodic chimes of my alarm as I
press snooze for only the tenth time. I look at the clock with heavy lidded
eyes. Unable to make out the numbers I blink twice, three, then a fourth time
trying to clear my vision.
9 o’clock.
Realizing that I have a class at
ten, I begin to consider how much time I can lay in bed before I have to get
up. Ten minutes go by as I carefully ponder this riddle, and I softly curse to
myself knowing those were precious minutes to my morning rituals. I push myself
to a sitting position and grimace when I see the floor below. My bed lays five
feet in the air on a sturdy wooded loft, which happens to be very annoying to
get in and out of.
“I need coffee,” I say to myself as
I lazily make my way to the foot of the bed.
I quickly go through my morning
practices that have become so ingrained into me since the age of two, and
wonder if I should make a pot of coffee before class. With annoyance I remember
that I have yet to unpack my coffee pot, which sits in its box four feet above
my freshly straightened brown hair. With a few grumbles, I finish putting the
rest of my eye make-up on and gather my stuff for class.
Too late to
make coffee myself, I resign myself to the fact that I will have to make the
five minute walk to Starbucks this morning. With only 15 minutes to spare
before my morning class, I decide to power walk all the way to my designation.
I can get some exercise this morning.
I reach the
door to the Nigh Center only to be thrown back in to hopeless resignation.
Starbucks, being practically the only place to get coffee, buzzes with the talk
of early morning risers. I hesitate for a second and other coffee goers take
advantage of this and cue up behind the already long line. The line moves
slowly to the cash register manned by a new trainee and I silently profess my
annoyance at this.
Finally,
reaching the register I quickly give my order knowing that I am certain to be
late to my first class.
“I would
like a grande Pumpkin Spice Latte,” I state with as much fake cheeriness as I
can muster.
“Oh, I’m so
sorry, but we are out of Pumpkin Spice,” she says with what I am uncertain is a
smile or a grimace. “Would you like anything else?”
My
shoulders sag from the weight of this sour insult to my request. I scan the
menu, spit out my order, and move along with the flow of happy customers. I
know at this point that my class should be starting, so I try and ready myself
for the walk back. I grab my coffee, take a few quick sips while burning my
tongue in the process, and make a dash to the Mass Communication building.
I arrive to
the classroom five minutes late, but the professor has not yet shown up.
Whew!
Crisis averted!
I take my
seat and proceed to take a few sips of coffee, and feel my brain becoming more
active. A few minute later, my professor shows up to tell us that our guest
speaker will not be coming because she is stuck in traffic.
“Class
dismissed,” he announces to a class of startled students.
I sag in my
chair from this indignation and consider going back to bed whenever I get back
to my room.
To Be Continued…
.jpg)
