Making it out of bed on a weekday after a late night. Slicing the bed-sheets off your body, giving into the chilly temperature pressuring onto the security and warmth beneath the covers. Hovering around the house resisting the shower that will electroshock you for another day at the office. Figuring out what to wear. Dragging your feet on that somber sidewalk, climbing into that bus, cab or car, taking the steps down to that train seat, ready to take you to work. On that chair, in between hundreds of people who have gone through the same challenge that morning, you will feel a slight relief: the relief of using the energy you thought you didn’t have to make it to an obligatory occasion. The relief of a miracle. A millisecond of pride, a glimpse of satisfaction, a tiny frame of peace before you bombard yourself with all the other challenges of the day: the talk you are supposed to have with your boss, the projects that are waiting to be completed, the bills that need to be paid, the plan of a vacation you have been yearning for, the laps that need to be completed on a treadmill, the dinner you are supposed to have with friends…
This is the shortsighted relief. A tiny step forward against the 17 hours that will eventually lead up to that warm bed again where you will reset the clock, the energy and the expectations.
