The morning alarm crashed
through my dreams, disturbing the pleasant frolicking with pixies I had going
on. If I could just entice another one to land on my finger, I was sure I was
going to be given the secret they had promised me. I fight to stay asleep –
reality cropping up in my illusion and slowly pulling me out of my slumber.
Only when the tethers of my
dream slip from my fingers do I actually start to wake up.
It’s going to be a slow
morning and I need to get moving.
Dragging my body out of
bed, I trudge to the bathroom. The glance to the mirror makes me scowl at
myself. Bah
– I hate the morning – not the reflection.
I feel as if I were stuck
in molasses – everything moving in slow motion. Brain pistons not quite
firing up to speed. The connection between my grey matter and the mouth are
also somewhat disconnected. I’m able to point and grumble, but complete
sentences are not recommended. Too much thinking this early in the morning
might cause confusion. Worse yet, it might cause my brain to burst into flames.
My body is on auto-pilot. I
grab suitably matching clothing and start to put myself together. This is no
time for a wardrobe malfunction.
The cat comes in to
speak with me and I can have a conversation with him. Cats – yes, humans –
no. Humans demand too much thinking this early. Cats just want attention
and you don’t even really need to say anything.
We share the sink while I
brush my teeth. I put on my make up and brush our hair. When we're done we go
to the kitchen and pack my lunch. He leads the way, chatting the whole time.
Which, if I had to pick
something to like about the mornings, it would have to be that. The interaction
between me and my cat.
