I woke up a few minutes before my alarm clock rang. I was sprawled all over my bed. The pillows had fallen to the floor. The bed sheets were all twisted in three ropes that snaked around my body and limbs. My feet hung off the bed. I had somehow managed to do a quarter spin in my sleep and was now lying across the width of the mattress. I wondered what kind of dreams I had this time.
I freed myself from the grip of the linens and slowly stretched every moveable part of my body. Some proved to be more reluctant than others but the soft call to life finally spread through my whole system. When the alarm clock finally bellowed, I slapped it off and slid my feet in their fuzzy purple slippers. I grabbed my glasses on the night stand before rising up. The “before” aspect is crucial; piggies and furniture are way too cozy in the morning. No need to encourage them. Once my surroundings gained their high-definition, I ventured out the bedroom in search for some breakfast.
I fixed myself a mushroom omelette with a huge glass of orange juice. I grabbed the newspaper in the mailbox and settled down into my eating habit: one bite of omelette for my body, one bite of news for my mind. Repeat as needed.
Once filled on all accounts, I started to hop in the shower. As I walked past the bathroom mirror, I noticed my strawberry blond hair, heavy on the strawberry, had more knots than macramé and crackled with more electricity than power lines. Combined with my slightly slanted eyes, I gave off a fierce and savage feline vibe. Quite a night I had! I tried to tame my mane and finally decided to bring a comb with me in the shower. It took a toll on my spring-scented conditioner but I managed to turn the tangles into soft curls. I now looked like a wet kitten but I saved myself with a little hot air from the blow-dryer. Sexy secretary it is!
Back to the bedroom, I fought with the bed sheets to put them in order. This day was definitely starting with a lot of struggles. At least, by the time I was done, the humidity left on my body had dried so I could slip in my clothes. There is nothing I hate more than putting clothes on right after shower and feeling them stick to my skin.
I browsed through my “dry-cleaner only” suits. I allow myself to dress more casually on Fridays but Mondays were classy. I picked up my silver ensemble and a turquoise blouse adorned with a few ruffles along the neckline. I added a thin belt with a silver and teal buckle to my straight pants and fished the matching earrings and choker out of my tiny jewellery box. I pulled half of my hair behind my head and secured it with a few bobby pins. The curls fluffed nicely down my neck but my face was free and the hairdo wouldn’t be uncomfortable to lie on.
I applied some light make-up; just enough to give me an extra-healthy look and make my hunter green eyes stand out. I slid my glasses back up my button nose, splashed a little perfume on my neck and wrists, and was off to work.
Taking the metro in the wee hours of the morning had its perks. I was able to find a seat between a woman with too much make-up and not enough face, and a bodybuilder who thought himself too irresistible for his own good. He flashed a perfect white-toothed smile my way and I answered by digging in my book. I heard him stretch to read over my shoulder. I suspected he thought I was playing hard to get and wanted to use my readings as an ice-breaker. After a few minutes of what must have been awe and pondering, he decided I wasn’t easy enough a prey. Reading the Iliad in the original Greek is bound to have that effect on look-oriented guys. He’d just have to wait for the next trim redhead.
I got off one stop early and found my way through the thickening working-class crowd. Up on the street, I angled toward my favourite coffee shop to grab a little boost before reaching the office. The clerk greeted me by my name before handing me my tall latte over the heads of the other customers. It has been a long time since I had to wait in line for my coffee. I left enough money on the counter to cover my purchase and a fair tip.
I slowly walked to my building, contemplating the morning life. Everyone seemed late for whatever they had to do. I was in advance, as usual. My work is stressful enough for me to avoid any unnecessary craziness before coming in. I wondered how people could hold such a rhythm, how they could cope with missing so much of the city’s delight. I sipped my coffee and enjoyed every second of it.
I reached the glass doors of the skyscraper I work in. A window cleaning team was polishing every surface as they are hired to do at every season’s passing. I recognized a few faces and waved. Smiles answered and one of the guys opened the door for me. A gush of conditioned air broke through the summer heat and lifted my hair. It turned my reflection into a very “shampoo commercial” picture. I felt really pretty. Whatever nightmare had disturbed my bed last night, it was long forgotten.
I entered the lobby ready to pull my weight for the day. My high-heel shoes clacked smartly as I strode across the seal embedded in the floor: “Psychic Service of Investigation – Proaction, Security, Integrity.”