Free Writing in the Morning

63/100

Time passes so quickly and it takes an age for me to drag myself from sleep. First, there’s the blind swiping at my phone — ten minutes or more of inane poking at emails, Twitter, my blog … has anyone read anything? Hello, is this thing on? … before I’m awake enough to throw my feet over the side of the bed and lurch toward the kitchen. Coffee. The lure of coffee is a requirement to get me out of the confines of warm bed and blankets.

While the machine is warming, I scour the internet for stimuli: interesting thoughts, articles, ideas. They might spark something in my head (and I hope to god they will because when I first wake up my thoughts sound like tumbleweeds blowing in the desert. No words. Fingertips bled dry; they lie motionless on the keyboard.)

Now I have coffee, I can begin. But so much time has already passed, I hardly have a minute to pour out these thoughts before it’s on to the next hustle. Such is life: overwhelmed by plans, chasing them down like so many wild unicorns, working at double speed to recover lost days spent shrouded in drizzling fog, making hay while the sun shines.

And with that, on to the next unicorn …