Running Late: A Morning Dialogue

I open my eyes and attempt to wake myself up. By "open my eyes" I mean peel apart my eyelids long enough to glance at the time on the clock before swiftly closing them again.

Looking at the clock, I realize I forgot to set any alarms on my phone the night before and *shit* I now have a half hour until I need to leave. Oddly enough this realization doesn't instill the fear of god in me and I remain in bed for another few minutes, perhaps pondering the life choices that led me to this moment or, what's more likely, giving in to the fact that I'm still just groggy enough to stay chill for a big longer.

Three minutes later, I'm up. I make my bed because it's muscle memory at this point and I instantaneously move to do it every morning; if this is a personality trait you find annoying, I invite you to just deal with it. I then plod over to the bathroom to assess the damage. After four mornings of waking up too late to wash my hair, the reflection is pretty unfortunate. I should wash my hair.

But I don't have time, and I'm not fooling myself into thinking it's going to happen.

I decide I'll wear bright lipstick and pull some fun shoes from the back of my closet to detract from the dry shampoo mop on my head. Lipstick and footwear help.

I take out my retainers and briefly contemplate how puzzling it is that I'm single.

I move on to my face. My face looks fine, and I'm tempted not to wash it to save time. But I do it anyway. Greasy hair is one thing. Greasy hair and an oily face screams MA'AM YOU NEED TO GET YOUR LIFE TOGETHER.

Okay, I'm washing my face. This isn't so bad. Eye cream, check. Moisturizer, check. Bada bing bada boom.

I steal a glance at my phone to check the time. 24 minutes left.

I should really at least shower my body. I should really at least shower my body. I repeat this to myself enough times until I've gained the momentum to get in the actual shower. I give myself 3 minutes.

5 minutes later I'm out, punctual as always.

I have 18 minutes left and while this may seem like a generous amount of time, I'm a breakfast girl and I'll be damned if I don't leave 10 minutes to eat my favorite peanut butter / strawberry / honey toast. You have your priorities, I have mine.

So 8 minutes.

I put on my brows and face. Lipstick will have to wait.

I head to my closet. What to wear, what to wear. I have to actually try a little today—again, to detract from the state of my hair. I pull the first thing that feels right—a dress with a top thrown over. This looks kinda not that great but I don't have time to change. I add a belt. I add some flats. The flats aren't good enough for today. I try some wedges. These will surely detract from the rest of my entire being.

Self semi-ready and fed, I head out the door.

I can always wash my hair tomorrow.