Most mornings when I wake up I instantly hate everything. I’m mad at the curtains for fooling me into thinking I had more time. I’m pissed at my cats for meowing in excitement at my first sign of life and the possibility that they might be fed. I hate the thought of untangling myself from the comforter that has somehow not strangled me in the night and touching my bare feet to the cold bamboo floor. In short, I’m not a morning person.
My snooze button sees more action than Chris Brown and Rihanna’s bathroom stall and I usually manage to flop out of bed sometime between 7:00 and 7:15. In order to be to work on time, and especially if I want to stop for coffee (which I need), I have to be walking out the door by 7:25. Not a minute later. I use the ten minutes between slumber and sidewalk to smooth out the previous night’s makeup and take on a heavy dose of dry shampoo while simultaneously brushing my teeth. Needless to say, I look damn good for my coworkers. Damn good.
On a rare occasion I will wake up at 6:50 in an attempt to shower away the anger and trick myself into being awake and alert. With shampoo residue glistening in my rat-tail, I slather on as much makeup as I can get on in ten minutes and make sure to do my eyebrows and lips so onlookers can definitely tell that I’ve tried that day. My eye makeup is inconsequential underneath my thick, black-rimmed glasses so that’s a definite time-saver. Whatever clothing is nearest and not wrinkled (least wrinkled) goes on and I jump into either loafer-like slippers or black ankle boots that have been falling apart for a year. Hair still dripping down the back of my neck, I run out the door and down the stairs, avoiding spiders and the occasional rat to try to figure out where I parked the night before.
By the time my hair air-dries and the morning fog lifts, I realize that I’ve put on something that smells of cat urine and my tights have a giant fuzzy on the inside of the shin that I can’t get out without completely removing my shoes and tights. So I leave it.
It’s a wonder someone hasn’t snapped me up. Hot.