Tomorrow, I will wake up before the sun.
I will make myself a cup of steaming, fragrant coffee and drink it sitting on the balcony, listening to the early risers among the birds. I will let my mind fill with beautiful thoughts about the dawn clouds, a little blue, a little white, just like human existence. I will have a whole hour or two to myself before I need to delve into the sweaty, rushed world of making breakfast, getting ready for work, and hoping I could instead lounge in my armchair, reading the eager book sitting on my bedside table.
I will set my alarm to go off at 5:30 A.M. That will give me 15 minutes of snooze time before I have to leave the bed. They might say snoozing is bad for you, that you should leave the bed as soon as the alarm goes off, that snoozing messes up your sleep cycle. But can all those warnings stand a chance against the sweet bliss that is 15 extra minutes of morning sleep? No, I need those blessed 15 extra minutes of shutting the world out, of letting my eyes return to the secure confines of slumber.
I will go to bed nice and early. In preparation for getting up early the next morning for my two precious hours of peace. I shift about in bed for a while, trying to tune out thoughts about irritating people at work and focusing on how the night would somehow, magically, erase the newest blemishes on my face. (When will they disappear, by the way?) My nightclothes feel a wee bit stuffy. My throat feels a little dry. Is that a moth on the wall? No, the door did not creak. Go to sleep.
My alarm goes off at 5:30 A.M., the punctuality freak. My eyes spark open. It is silent in the room, but for R’s gentle snoring. The birds aren’t up yet, refusing to sing a fake welcome song for the horror that is Monday. I remember I need to boil milk for that cup of coffee, not just heat the leftover milk from yesterday. (There isn’t any.) What was that dream that made me flinch all night? Something with people arguing about anti-blemish creams. Ooh, will the blemishes have disappeared yet? Dare I look?
Yawn. Perhaps I will shut my eyes for only five more minutes. And then, without delay, I will begin my new regimen of waking up before up the sun and relishing the delicious quiet.
Only five more minutes of shut-eye before the intoxication of freshly-ground coffee beans…
Kaww kaww kawwww!
The cuckoos have departed by the time I rise; the delusional crows are practising their song. The sun has long woken up. By the looks of it, he has also showered and put on his shiniest, flashiest garb.
7:30 A.M. Drat it, drat it!
This morning, instant coffee and the unsettling please-don’t-let-me-be-late thoughts will have to suffice.
But tomorrow will be a new day.
Tomorrow, I will wake up before the sun. Of course, I will.