So I awoke to a sense of vagrant disinterest this morning. I did not want to climb out of bed. Furthermore, I did not want to inch myself to the beckoning water closet. And least of all, did not want to primp and preen myself in order to get to work. Work... hm... are you sure it is absolutely necessary to go to work every morning?
I think not. The occasional faux sick day should be completely acceptable. Especially when the lazy warmth of the rising sun is embracing the comfortable cushiony nook of nightly repose. I slip my hand out from under the covers and reach into the warm rays breaking through the dark reaches of my room. I pull at nothing in particular and sink back into the billowing goose down comforter. I close my eyes and hope that night will return so I can enjoy a few more moments of dreamy respite. But the light has now shifted to my face and I cannot pretend...
I drag my feet to one side and wait. Perhaps I shall be lucky and there might be a few more minutes to spare in idle splendour but one glance at the despicable alarm clock is enough to ensure that night's sweet spell must wane at once and be followed swiftly by a flurry of instant activity. But my lethargic body has other ideas in mind. My weight shifts to allow my body to slowly inch itself to the cold, sharp edges of the bed. I shiver as the comforter shifts and more uncovered flesh is exposed to the crisp air blowing from the tornado-like motions of a portable fan. I sigh and lower my lashes, to protect my reluctant eyes from engaging the world that seems to be unravelling around me.
And then comes a sharp female shriek that could put a wild west damsel to shame and I bolt upright in bed. I am now awake.
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