Friday, March 28, 2014

Good Morning Sunshine

You get rudely disturbed by the clock radio, hit the snooze bar a billion times, just 10 more minutes before sticking out your feet into the dim light of our basement apartment wondering what the weather holds today.  The soft carpet is replaced by hard tile on my journey to the bathroom.  I sit my bottom down on the toilet seat and rub the sleep out of my eyes.  I listen to my boy fill a pot of water to boil in order to make the elixir of my morning in the plastic white French Press someone gave to me long ago.  I toddle into the bedroom opening drawers, digging through the piles of clothes on the floor trying to decide what kind of fashion statement I should make at the office today and if anyone really notices, hearing the laptop start up and the talk radio whine away in the background of my mind.  I pull out a shirt, a pair of pants, socks, underwear, bra, wrestle to put them all on in the correct order. 
A minute later in the kitchen, I pour the oatmeal into a little Ikea pot with water and put the burner on medium and stand watching it slowly come to a bubble.  The coffee is settling in the French Press and I grab a couple of mugs waiting...waiting...waiting.  The weather, once again says it's ass snappin' cold out with no chance of wonderful warmth in the near future and I sit on my stool at the kitchen counter watching the oatmeal bubble away in the pot hoping it doesn't burn this morning, my head resting in my hands.  A pleasant conversation flows naturally, easily between me and my boy and we laugh and make jokes about the upcoming day and what adventures the next 10 hours may bring us. 
I stir the brown sugar into my oatmeal, pour the frothy hot coffee into my mug that has a Z scrawled across it.  Taking a sip my boy reminds me that of course it's hot and I burn my tongue, just like all the other mornings before this one.  I fill the empty oatmeal bowl with water to let it soak all day, where it will patiently wait for me to come home to make it all sparkly again later tonight.
Pulling my carcass off the bar stool, I meander into the bathroom, brush the sleep off my teeth, apply make-up to one eye, swish the mascara brush in the almost empty make-up holder then apply to the other eye.  My boy is tidying up the kitchen while I make myself beautiful for the office.  My hair needs cutting but there's nothing I can do about it at this moment so I shrug my shoulders and put more goop on the parts that won't lay flat. 
Looking at my watch and realizing the time, grab last night's leftovers from the refrigerator for today's lunch, my coat is on, zipped up, should I wear my big heavy winter boots, might as well, they were expensive.  Then a kiss on the lips, a nice smile and an "I love you babe" and out the door, purse over my shoulder, knitting in my lunch bag and into the cold sunshine of this never ending winter.

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