Monday 9th, Jan
7:30 a.m. I groan into my pillow as the incessant blaring of my alarm begins. I lift myself out of my warm comfortable cocoon to snooze it once. Twice. Three times. And now I’m officially late. Were the hazy remnants of a dream about me looking for my keys worth it? Nope.
After an arctic shower (I forgot to turn the water heater on), I hastily brush my teeth and shave away a day’s worth of stubble off my face. I survey my now presentable visage. My expression reflects exactly how I feel. Tired, annoyed with a hint of totally-dead-inside. Perfect.
8:30 a.m. I cram a piece of toast into my mouth and wash it down with some ‘all natural’ orange juice because you gotta have those ‘vitamins’ and rush out the door. I make it all the way to the bottom of the stairs only to rush right back up to hurriedly grab everything I forgot the first time. Watch... wallet... phone... check! Time to leave. For real this time.
9:15 a.m. I make it work and immediately dump my things at my station and make a beeline for the coffee machine. A couple of minutes later, my desk-mate practically skips into the office as I sit bleary-eyed nursing my first cup of coffee for the day. Morning people. How I despise them.
8:00 p.m. Today is one of those days. One that is to be filed under ‘Turning point’ in the great filing cabinet of life. I barely recall the meeting. Expressions like ‘downward trends’, ‘global markets’ and ‘new direction’ were casually thrown around. And then they pulled out the big guns. ‘Downsizing’. I say it out loud just to see if it sounded just as absurd as it does in my head. I lost my job today.
Monday 16th, Jan
7:30 a.m. My eternally faithful alarm goes off as it has for the last week. I can’t be mad at it anymore. It doesn’t know any better. I sit up sans groan and survey my room. A tornado would be proud of this level of devastation. I start sifting through the clutter and discover items that I thought were lost forever. Data cables, a pair of aviators (yes, I thought they were cool once), a pristine John Grisham novel that I never got around to reading and my old iPod! Last song played: Santana’s Maria Maria. Why the hell not? I plug in my speakers and hit play.
A couple of songs later and I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself. My room now somewhat resembles that of a productive member of society. I even remember to turn the hot water on. In the shower, I don’t think about traffic or the insane number of emails that have accumulated in my inbox. Instead, I let the gentle cloud of steam engulf me as I try to clear my mind.
8:30 a.m. I look in the bathroom mirror slightly taken aback at how different I look. Who knew that following the instructions on the conditioner bottle would work such wonders on my frizzy locks? I pick up my razor and try to take long slow strokes rather than trying to go for the world record for the world’s fastest and most painful shave. I splash some cold water on my face and take one last look. Hmm. Not bad.
9:00 a.m. I settle back into my neatly made bed with a fresh cup of coffee and the morning paper. There is something familiar and comforting about the sound of the paper crinkling as I turn the page. I remember my dad lounging in his favorite chair with his paper on Sunday mornings. The old man was definitely on to something. This is the most relaxed I’ve felt in years.
9:30 a.m. I make myself some eggs, fry up some bacon (YOLO) and drag out my ancient juicer to finally put those fruits I bought to good use. There’s something liberating about cooking yourself a good meal and eating it with gusto.
10 a.m. I open up my laptop. My fingers itch to follow the familiar routine of opening up my inbox and losing myself in it. I take a deep breath. No more job. I’m in uncharted waters. I pull up my resume and begin polishing it up. My stomach twinges as I consider the possibilities ahead of me but it isn’t from trepidation. I’m excited and cautiously optimistic. My head is oddly clear. I smile. Monday mornings get a bad rap.