The alarm blares for about 10 seconds before the sirens wail too much and I want to scream. My fingers desperately smack the end table, hoping to hit the ‘off’ button, but instead knock over the plastic Moulin Rouge! cup filled with Sprite and vodka, spilling the concoction of last night’s mistakes onto the carpet. “Shit!” I angrily whisper to myself while I try to crawl out of the tangled mess of sheets I’ve cocooned into during slumber. I feel my dog stirring as my frantic attempt to get out of bed signals him to prepare for breakfast and a potty break. There’s some empty grasping for my glasses, only for me to squint and notice their marked absence from the usual spot on the end table. “Where the…” I ask myself as I start spreading my hands and arms around the contorted mass of blankets in my futile attempt to start the morning. I feel my laptop, and hear it still running from last night’s YouTube binge of old Bridezillas clips and Drawfee shorts. “C’mon, where the hell…aha!”
Somehow, my glasses ended up falling into the tiny crevice between the bed and the wall. I reach down but my wrist and hand are just fat enough that I can only graze the tip of the lens. After 30 seconds of struggle, I relent and drag myself out of the bed. Forgetting my earlier mishap, I step onto the fallen cup, breaking the plastic in half and landing my ungraceful balance into the soaking puddle on the carpet. “God damn it!” I yell out loud before clasping my hands over my mouth, remembering my roommate. Then I remember it’s Monday and she’s probably already left for work.
I waddle off the soaked carpet and begin dragging the bed over, so I can flop back onto it and reach for my glasses. 30 seconds later and the glasses are successfully secured. Afterwards, a poor attempt at wiping them clean with the only dry part of my sweaty nightshirt leaves them smudgy but usable. I look over at the alarm clock and notice the time; 11:37 AM. “Alright, class starts at noon. Maybe I have some leftover coffee….” I hear a squelching sound and look over to see my dog licking the vodka carpet. “Rover, no!” but he ignores me. “Rover, outside!” He perks up and looks at me, knowing I’ve said the magic word. I start to walk and he bolts around me; I move out the way to be courteous and not trip over him, but lose my spatial focus and slam my shoulder into the doorframe. It’s Monday, and I want today to end already.
For more personal reflections, click here
Leave a Reply