Today I was awoken by the sweet aroma of french toast with cinnamon, only to become dissatisfied with the fact that it was 6 am, and had to be at work in two hours. I sat in bed for a minute, gathered my strength and threw myself from my sleeping coffin, and made my way upstairs. At this point i was still in what my mother calls "zombie" mode. I sloppily hurl myself across the hall into a seat in front of my decadent breakfast. A breakfast such as this surely would wake a bear from hibernation. The fragrance of the french toast softly ascended to my nose, which of course, lead me to the maple syrup,followed by the apprehension of my trusty fork and knife. I'm not the kind of person who savors excellence,I lack the self control. Needless to say, I finished my french toast quite quickly, chased it all down with a glass of milk, and made my way to the shower. Nothing extraordinary about my shower. Shampoo, condition...that endless routine.
I then returned to my cave, found some clothing that I found fit for work, combed my hair, and made my way to the door for my morning cigarette. This mornings cigarette was especially enjoyable. The sun was shining down on me while I lit my "cancer". I laid back in my somewhat comfortable lawn chair and embraced it all. I was relaxed, yet ready to jump up and go in a minute. Five and a half minutes later, I arose from my chair picked up my bag, threw on my "H&M" name tag, and headed out the door for another day at the grind.