It is silent...except for the white noise of the vent blowing air around inside itself, the one bird that must be buildings away because I hear him only ever so faintly and, well, the sound of my fingers click-clacking the keys. Tea is warmly running down my throat, my clothes are neatly laid out before me and the prospect of a Genetics exam looms phenotypically before every inch of my mind. It's Tuesday morning. But it is no ordinary Tuesday morning. It's EARLY Tuesday morning and I've already been awake for an hour... It's the kind of early that is beautiful with your eyes closed or hypothetically if you were waking up to this crisp morning on a yacht in the south of France.
For now, it is the kind of morning that shows that I went to bed without my life in order. That I couldn't pull myself together enough last night to do what I "could" do in the morning...
Each strike of these keys is a sound of disdain for my procrastination.
Good morning, Tuesday...
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