I do not want to be at work today. I woke up earlier than usual this morning, pre-alarm clock early. The barest hint of daylight struggling to creep through the ugly piss-yellow opaque fiberglass forward hatch. Just a hint of chill slithering underneath the blanket. Cats curled into tightly wrapped balls of heat-retaining fur. The white-noise hiss from the early-morning freeway commuters traveling across the water and rebounding off the building outside. The moment of absolute calm before the first conscious motion of the day. The ember red numbers on the clock whispering, "6:21".
It's cool when I get out of bed, not the relieving kind of cool like when you drink a cold glass of water on a hot day, but the anticipatory cool where you know there's real cold waiting patiently just outside your door, hoping you will invite it inside for a cup of hot cocoa.
Feed and water the cats, who for once are too sleepy to engage in their morning ritual of mutual animosity. Slip on the sweats, the shoes, the jacket and the watch cap. Grab the bag with all the toiletries, take a deep breath of the not-so-cold inside air before sliding back the hatch, pulling off the boards and stepping outside into the not-quite-dawn-yet morning that is as clear as a perfectly cleaned patio door. The man-in-the-moon peeks around the corner of the building, playing hide-and-seek with the sun, while Jupiter and Venus shuffle reluctantly home for bed. The water is smooth as the polished top of a grand piano, and the air is cold enough to make you blush. I could just as easily sit there and wait for the sun to jump up from it's hiding place behind Capital Hill, yelling "Ollie, Ollie, all in free!", but I have to take a shower, get dressed, go to work.
I would really rather not, though. I'd rather play one last round of Hide-and-Seek with the sun and the moon.
I just spent the morning (at work, natch!) reading a bunch of blogs written by friends of mine -- who knew they had this secret life? Not me, although I had heard vague, unsubstantiated rumors to that effect. Now, they are confirmed and my curiosity is exceeded only by the chagrin I feel that a.) I didn't find out about them sooner, and b.) that they DIDN'T TELL ME!!! Isn't that what friends are for?
Well, it did get me to thinking, "Hey, I could do one of these too!", which inevitably leads to the question everyone must ask as some point in this process, "Yes, but do I really have anything INTERESTING to say?", which I suppose automatically leads to a second question, "Do I CARE if it's interesting or not?" Too many questions, a quagmire, a pool of quicksand for the too-introspective to fall into, never to be seen or heard from again. I shall endeavor to avoid the trap.
