Just a random bit of writing from the other day.......
"I awoke in the morning to the sun filling my room with its early golden light. Reaching off the bed for my phone, I groaned realizing that it was only 5:48. Having lived in the basement for a number of years I was accustomed to sleeping in near darkness at all times of the day. Now on the second floor with two large windows immediately to the left of my bed, my body had not yet accepted the intruding morning light for the mild annoyance that it was, but instead as a natural alarm clock. However, having neither want nor need to be awake at this hour, to say nothing of desire, I roll over and try to go back to sleep. When this simple effort proves to be ineffectual, I slowly get up, reaching for a t-shirt that I can drape over my face to block out the brightness. The dog is smart and simply sleeps with his entire being underneath the heavy covers, which does a wonderful job on completely blocking out all light. Having not yet mastered the art of breathing normally through a layer of quilted material, I am left with the make shift sun block of my worn gray t-shirt.
My alarm goes off at 7:20. I barely rise, just enough to turn it off, in favor of the later time I also set it for. Goober, the dog, has become accustomed to my morning routine and does not stir, as he knows the first alarm is always ignored. I lay there in the warmth of the bedclothes that soon will prove to be a bit too warm, forcing me to awaken again. My alarm sounds again, and now Goober rouses himself from his curled position. He meanders up the bed to look at my face, with his simple but direct expression of “Get up, I want to go outside.” I begrudgingly tear my self from my comfort in bed. I reach for a t-shirt that is a little more socially acceptable, as the one I am wearing is emblazoned with “Smile if you’re gay” and a rainbow. While I don’t normally hide my sexual orientation, I don’t feel the need to be advertising it to the world. I grab a pair of socks and head on down the stairs.
I use to facilities first, muttering to Goober “Damn it, I’d like to go the bathroom first.” The finding the keys, leash, and a bag for leavings, I snap the harness on the little dog and head out the door. I have grabbed a cigarette, which I light upon setting foot on the sidewalk. I don’t quite understand why it is that I am smoking this early in the morning, or why I am at all. I don’t normally smoke, having never acquired the habit. However, when I do imbibe in alcohol, something switches in my brain, and my body cries out for nicotine and carbon monoxide. So after a weekend of drinking with friends, it is normal for a pack of smokes to be lying about the house. However, for some reason lately, I’ve been reaching for them 2, 3, even 4 times a day, whenever I am about to leave the house. There doesn’t seem to be a pattern or need, just a random act. I feel that once that pack is gone, a new one will not show up to replace it, until a wild night of drinking commences once again. I ponder this as I walk down the sidewalk with the dog, wondering if any of the passing cars contain a friend or family member, who will later grill me about smoking the nefarious cigarette. "