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insurmountable odds
Posted on 2007.02.10 at 10:14
I woke up without the alarm clock - as I usually do. My bleary eyes tell me that everything is as it always is at 05:45. Fat cat snoring, snuggled up in the gully formed by our legs. Sensing the possibilty of cat food, he stirs awake with a morning mew and takes the few steps to look me in the face to see if breakfast is a possibility. Quietly, I greet him and he begins to purr. Things are going to be okay. Daddy's up.

I slide out of bed, leaving the duvet undisturbed and follow the cat down the stairs. He heads directly to his empty bowl, and I go rescue the paper from the biting february morning. A quick glance at the headlines tells me nothing as I'm still in automa-stan mode. The kettle is filled with fresh water and put on the burner set on low. The cat cheerfully witnesses the ritualistic shaking of the food bag and the magic of kitty-krunchies tumbling into his dish. His universe contracts - nothing else exists now but for his food and a distant impression that someone is stroking his back. The echo of his purring washes past his whiskers and out of the bowl.

With the feline speedbump no longer underfoot, I can groggily but safely make my way upstairs to shower then shave in the rippled reflection of the steamed-up mirror. No nicks today; surprising given the age of the blade. I do a passable job of it, a little sloppy around the burns but I figure Masoud my barber will fix that this evening anyway so no biggy. I'm feeling slumpish, not quite topped up, so when I chose which shirt to wear today I grab the comfy stripey one that will go nicely with my funky striped socks.

Five minutes of ironing to the sounds of My Chemical Romance then I'm back in the darkened bedroom quietly gathering my underthings by the beam of my baby maglite.
I'm dressed. I wiggle my stripey toes . I'm pleased. I'm ready to take on another one.

Down the stairs I go, past the contented cat and into the kitchen where the kettle is quietly whistling to itself; waiting to release the aroma of coffee throughout the house. Rummaging around for a clean cup I glance at the saturday paper again.

saturday?

not friday??

fuck.


Comments:


She shoots, SHE SCORES!!
pisceandreamer at 2007-02-10 17:36 (UTC) (Permanent link)
Oh dear. About halfway through I caught myself thinking, "I didn't know he had to work on Saturdays..."

Well, you've at least gotten a head start on the weekend. :)
Simply Stan
paperpath at 2007-02-11 16:32 (UTC) (Permanent link)
heh, yeah. true that.
I was napping by 14:00 though - in the barber's chair.
harbouring at 2007-02-10 19:34 (UTC) (Permanent link)
aw, that sucks man. hahaha :( i've done that
Simply Stan
paperpath at 2007-02-11 16:36 (UTC) (Permanent link)
After I realised, I thought about snuggling back under the blankies but no, that ship had sailed. Those are Z's I'll never ever get back. :(
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