I wake to a paw in the face. Why, Cinc, why? Persistent whines tell me he's needy, perhaps to go out, perhaps to play, but the lack of sunshine here brings with it an unenthusiastic start to the day, assuming a certain premature drudgery to an otherwise untainted and ripe day. I know it's not the day's fault I hate it so, but from the horizontal position in my bed I can see it already promises to be colorless and insignificant. Born only to pass the time. Why bother at all, I muse.
I lead the dog downstairs, for my first signs of life have stirred him into a frenzy, a bouncing firework of energy to which I am the match. I open the door, and his boundlessness heads for the small patch of leaves he favorites every morning, and bends, back arched in sweet relief, nose sniffing. I watch from the door, and my foggy comprehension affixes itself to a likewise desire within myself. After calling the dog back in, I head to the bathroom, already assessing the order with which I will complete the morning tasks. Waking up is a process I've not yet perfected, but the rigid order of objectives is the scaffolding to which I cling for deriving success and satisfaction from the dredging smear that is today. Oatmeal, microwave, bathroom, coffee, retrieve and season oatmeal, water dog, water self, vitamins, eat, drink. In the space of a few minutes, the haze clears, and the caffeinated satiation sweeps the morning cobwebs from the corners of my mind, clearing space for a mild degree of optimism. The promise of a new day. Optimism is the revered owner of my mind, the bustle prior to its arrival hellbent on ridding the streets of this morning's lackluster thoughts and hopeless negativity, the shooing of unaesthetic street people out of my square frame of mind, watching with crossed arms as their draped figures shuffle out of view, muttering of the inconvenience, and of their eventual return. I resume the task list, it's denizens varying more in complexity as I add them one by one, their completion, the key to a successful day.
No comments:
Post a Comment