This time I wake up for real. It is six o’clock, Monday morning. Work again. “why does the weekend have to be so short?” I ask myself. I get up off the chair, and head to the kitchen to prepare myself a cup of coffee. I open the fridge thinking Colombian, or African beans, it takes me about thirty seconds to decide. Something medium, and pull out the Colombian beans, grind them an poor the grinds into the coffee maker. I am a coffee snob, fresh beans, filtered water, a good cup of coffee. I place two pieces of whole wheat toast into the toaster oven, writing this I beginning to think “food journal….creepy.” but I digress. It’s shower time, and then I off to work.
I left the house a little early today, so that I could get ahead of traffic. There is a fifteen minute gap in every hour when I can get anywhere without slowing down. So I get into my old Pontiac Grand AM, and I’m on my way. Just as I had predicted, I got into the traffic hole, and speeding at seventy down the interstate gets me to work in fifteen minutes. I walk into the building and as normal I say hello the secretary then the packaging lady, then the custodian. It is then I realize that I am writing in the present tense. Well I chose to do so because my life occurs always present. Not too much time right now for the past and not dumb enough to talk about the future. I was whistling like I usually am all day when my boss sees me. “Good morning Brian” he says, with the creepiest smile on his face.
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