the alarm goes off at 7:30.  i finally get out of bed around 7:45.  after a quick jump in the shower, clothes are put on for the day, and i’m downstairs by 8:10.  i reach in the cupboard for the biggest mug i can find all the while annoyed with myself for my morning ritual of drinking the dark deliciousness and feeling rather dependent.  after eating a piece of toast or a piece of shortbread or a bowl of cereal or some fruit or whatever it is i find that morning, at 8:25 i run back upstairs to brush my teeth, grab my bag, and then i head out the door.

i sit at a desk for the next seven hours answering phones, typing, and using a mouse that makes a knot tighten on the left side of my neck even more everyday.  i then walk home, change into tights, a skirt, a tanktop, grab my ballet shoes and leave the house.  i dance and sing for the next two hours, sweating profusely in a room on the second floor with no AC, frustrate myself with my dreadful pirouettes, have headaches from being dropped on my head by a boy, and really enjoy every minute of it.

i come home tired and dirty and a bit worn.  i go to bed already dreading the sound of the alarm that i will, like every other morning, ignore for the first fifteen minutes.

and so goes my world.