Day 5: How Are Your Mornings?
Okay, maybe not a poem necessarily. It can be prose, but with a lyrical bent. I'd like to see you write about morning. Describe what your morning is like, but pay particular attention to the sounds, smells, and sights of your morning. For instance, my morning usually begins with small cold feet pressed into my legs when my daughter climbs into bed with us each morning. Then there is a torrent of words as she realizes I'm awake, the family struggle of a single bathroom, the dog rolling around on her back on the rug to greet the morning, and the sun slanting golden through the blinds. So show me (don't tell, show) me your morning. :)
In the dream, I am talking to someone. It's important. I am trying to hold onto the conversation, but something is distracting me. Something persistent and annoying. There's a buzzing, tickling sensation. I try to ignore it, but it is insistent. It's my left wrist.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realise that it's my wristband, trying to wake me up. Under the covers, I press its little button and sink back into oblivion.
I can hear something. It turns out to be the alarm on my phone. Not loud or aggressive, but I know that it'll keep going until I do something. I have to open my eyes to make this one stop. I half sit up, locate my phone through bleary eyes, and stab with my finger at the middle of the screen. After a few tries, the sound stops.
The alarm again. Another fumble at the phone. Where am I? Not at home - it would not be this dark. It must be the hotel. It must be a work day. I do not open my eyes, despite knowing that I should get up and moving. I can remember being up late last night, and deciding to push the alarm back to 7:30am. I haven't had nearly enough sleep, but now I know that there is not much time for flirting with the snooze button. It's going to cost me breakfast if I do it again.
The alarm again. Sudden sinking feeling. I've just remembered that it's Friday, which means that I have to check out of the hotel today. This means that I have to pack. Definitely no time for breakfast. I have to get moving. I open my eyes. Even the low level of light in the hotel room hurts, and I struggle to blink away the morning fuzz and focus.
The screen of my phone is lit up. I can see that there are alerts on the screen - I wonder what they are. I cannot see them properly through the haze. I need to draw the curtains, and let light into the room. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand up. My feet hurt. I stagger across to the window and draw the curtains.
I squint my eyes and turn away from the window and the cool brightness of this cloudy morning. I cannot face anything else yet, so back into bed - eyes closed again. This won't last - now the room is bright, and my eyes know it. I am going to be late.
My spectacles are on the bedside table. I put them on, and read my phone's display. The alerts are from Facebook and Twitter. Someone liked my singing - that's great. Despite my woozy state, the pleasure I get from that piece of news gives me a bit of a boost.
I clutch onto this small bit of energy and surf it into the shower. This works its usual magic until I emerge invigorated, determined to beat the clock and win the day.
This pretty much describes this morning, in fact. Too little sleep. Hm... another thing to work on.