Birds chirping entwine with the sound of water raining on the rainforest. I grumble incoherently and turn to my side. My phone, blasting nature’s song, says its 6:20 a.m.
The smart alarm feature on my phone just stole 10 minutes from me, again.
I lay in my bed and contemplate life for the 10 minutes my alarm stole from me.
The front door slams shut and I hear my mom’s car rumbling to life.
Shit.
It’s 6:42 a.m.
I get my stuff together and head to the bathroom where I spend the next 15 minutes, or so, mentally preparing for the traffic that awaits me.
Next is getting dressed and made up and then, finally — coffee.
At the kitchen, the Keurig is ready with a fresh cup of coffee for me, courtesy of my dad.
With my purse on my shoulder and my lunch in my purse, I walk to my car in the driveway and head out.
The school zone isn’t too bad, and the sky is finally lighting up. I head toward the feeder, but an 18-wheeler decides it’s his turn to get out of the truck stop just as I’m headed straight through his path and I’m forced to slam on the brakes. The jerk behind me honks.
I magically manage to get on the feeder and onto the freeway and out of the exit-only lanes and somehow, about 45 minutes later, I successfully avoid getting killed by stupid drivers and make it to my internship. I’m 30 minutes early, but leaving 30 minutes later from home would have made me an hour late. #Houston
Still reeling from the cloud of road rage that takes over me when idiots chose not to turn on their turning signal, or cut me off because hey, there’s a 2 inch space; I head toward my computer and type in “Houston apartments” into Google.
Twenty minutes later I find my dream home, but the Lofts at the Ballpark isn’t in my price range so, I figure I should make a budget before I start my search again. I can almost exclude gas, but wait — what about school? And speaking of school, when do I have to pay my emergency deferment loan?
I check when my payment date is and what I owe. I close the apartment search tab on Google — I’m probably overreacting, traffic wasn’t that bad.
Eventually I make it to school and, finally — I can eat. I walk past the overflowing lines of Chick-fil-A and McDonalds to heat up the arroz con pollo my mom made last night.
The day proceeds as usual, with meetings and editing at The Cougar. I might even be able to attend the energy symposium — not a chance.
At some point, after hours of work and laughing with the staff, I finally get to head home. Traffic isn’t as bad as the morning, but it ain’t no walk in the tar park either.
Once home I’m greeted by the high-pitched squeals of my mom laughing over Skype, with my aunt. I put my stuff on the vanity of my room and head for the kitchen where I make something to eat.
I guess I could have gotten something on my way, anything really, because #thesuburbs, and there’s something everywhere, but if I didn’t spend money at school, why do it now, when I’m so close to home.
I grab a seat next to my mom, pour myself a glass of wine that we will both drink, and join the gossiping hens to hear about how things are back home and who’s up to what.
The Skype session drags on, and at some point I decide it’s time for me to watch something on HBO or Netflix. The fourth episode of “The Newsroom” waits to be clicked and watched for the third time in as many months.
I close my bedroom door, and all of a sudden, I’m in New York City with Mackenzie and Will McAvoy.
During episode six, my bother knocks on my door and we end up talking for nearly an hour about the latest Real Madrid game. He leaves to eat and I go get ready for bed.
I see my dad on my way back from brushing my teeth, say goodnight and head back to my room, where my bed — which I moved from the left, to the right wall last week — awaits me.
I start to contemplate life, because my brain just won’t shut up. And in the quiet that surround my house, I just think.
And then the birds start chirping.
This smart alarm is really stupid.
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