Routine

The alarm goes off. It can't be morning already. You're still sleepy. You scramble to find the phone, and be careful to press the button to set snooze on. 6 minutes later, you do the same thing. Another 6 minutes. You know it's now or never. You roll out of bed and proceed to do an elaborate dance with sufurias, jugs and mitungis. Water doesn't flow in taps, or showers. You go back to bed, turning off all the lights you'd put on. You lie down and hope not too sleep too long. Time check. You have another 5 minutes. Another time check. This is it. Time moves at an incredible pace in the early morning. You get through with the shower, dress and dash out into the cold.

You check yahoo mail, a few blogs for new posts, reply to her email and before you know it it's 8 already. You switch to office/work mode. To deal with all sorts of requests, all urgent. You understand how the headless chicken feels, not knowing which way to go or what to do. Doing a little of this and a little of that, and not doing anything in the end. Somehow, you survive the day. It's home time.

You walk to the stage, talking to yourself on the way there, visualising the code you could have written/you'll write tomorrow. You get home, get into your shorts and t-shirt and get into bed. After putting on the radio for some sunset, easy going music as you attempt to wind down and medidate. Before you know it, it's 8 o'clock and you need to present yourself for supper, before you get summoned. After some brief utterances over supper, you're back in bed. The fatigue helps you go out without much fuss.

Monday to Friday.

You wake up on Sato morning and realise it's a saturday. The sun is up already so it can't be a working day. You don't have to wake up, but you have miscellaneous errands to run. You haven't been to church in ages but convince yourself that you'll stay at home and meditate on God and read a bit of the scriptures to keep you in tune. Do good intentions count for anything. You dash to town and back, just in time to get back into bed for the meditation you'd promised. You fall asleep somewhere at the beginning and wake up later in the evening. You debate whether you should stay in or not, but at some point the programming on TV convinces you to make a dash for it, under the unapproving looks from your mum. You spend the night contemplating the futility of life, in between a bit of dancing. It seems like you were the only one who was a teen in '95 as you're the only one singing along to the old skool playing.

You head for home when you're chased away from the club. You hope you don't run into anyone you know who may be making their way to church. You sneak back home and into bed, not wanting the awkwardness of meeting your mum at the door. You are absolutely spent. You don't know why you punish your body so. You wake up at 1, just long enough to look for something to eat and head back to your bed. You do spend a lot of time there. It's 7pm already. You need to get up so that you cheat your body later at 10pm that you've been awake the whole day. Otherwise you'll end up waking up at 2 and tossing, turning and cursing until day break.

The alarm goes off. It can't be morning already. You're still sleepy. You scramble to find the phone, and be careful to press the button to set snooze on.