Monday, July 11, 2016

Morning Routine

Since I'm sure you all were wondering, here's what my morning routine looks like. I've compiled it into a handy set of instructions that will doubtless be of great assistance to everyone:

Step 1: Pound on the alarm clock until it stops making that horrible noise.

Step 2: Groan. Loudly.

Step 3: Remember all the things you have to get done.

Step 4: Fall off the bed.

Step 5: Use the bed to help pull yourself up.

Step 6: Walk into a couple of walls and possibly a door frame on the way to the bathroom. Stepping on the cat is optional, but may also be included in this step.

Step 6: Flip on the light.

Step 7: Wince.

Step 8: Squint.

Step 9: Crack one eye just barely open.

Step 10: (Optional) Realize you're standing in the closet, and stumble back out and down to the bathroom. Repeat steps 6-9.

Step 11: Stand there looking blank until the light doesn't hurt so much.

Step 12: Pick up toothbrush.

Step 13: Pick up Neosporin.

Step 14: Realize that Neosporin is not toothpaste, and put it back down. Make a mental note to put the Neosporin back in the first aid kit now that the child has completely forgotten that he ever scraped his knee.

Step 15: Pick up the toothpaste.

Step 16: Forget all about the Neosporin, first aid kits, and children. Focus on getting toothpaste onto toothbrush.

Step 17: Brush.

Step 18: No, you idiot, not your hair. Brush your teeth.

Step 19: Turn on the shower.

Step 20: Realize that you're still holding your tooth brush. Put it back down atop the sink. Now turn on the shower.

Step 21: Wait for the water to warm up.

Step 22: Wonder why the room is so foggy. Realize that shower is still running, and step into it.

Step 23: Stand under warm water until it starts to get cold.

Step 24: In a panicked rush, do whatever minimal amount of shaving, shampooing, and/or lathering will allow you to pass as a functional adult.

Step 25: Put on clothes. (NOT optional.)

Step 26: Make tea.

Step 27: Realize that you need to be at work in seventeen minutes, and and it's a fourteen minute drive if you hit all the lights just right and the traffic is good.

Step 28: Clutching your tea in one hand and you bag in the other, rush out to your car. Note: it may be necessary to open doorknobs with your teeth. It might also be a good idea to set the bag down while you open doors.

Step 29: Pull the car out, then make sure you remembered to close the doors behind you.

Step 30: Drive to work, dodging lunatics, poor drivers, and people who are talking on phones or looking at the notes for their morning presentations instead of watching the road. Bask in the slow, daily erosion of your former faith in humanity.

Now you're ready to handle anything!

Yes, I realize that there are two step sixes in this list. That's the sort of thing that happens when you're still waking up.


  1. I don't step on the cat on the way to the bathroom. I roll over him in the process of falling out of bed.

    1. Also a perfectly sensible option. Or insensible, as you prefer...


Feel free to leave comments; it lets me know that people are actually reading my blog. Interesting tangents and topic drift just add flavor. Linking to your own stuff is fine, as long as it's at least loosely relevant. Be civil, and have fun!