Mornings

The sun shines across the little patch of green past the blinds. The sound of the cellphone emanates across the room. Placed on the large but very heavily populated desk, out of arms reach just to make him get out of the warm cocoon formed with two pillows, a comforting comforter and some blankets. The notebook switched on, left to eat up power generated probably by a nearby nuclear power plant. Every nine minutes, the snooze button is hit, till the resistance of slumber weakens and breaks. A glance at the new emails and the temperature outside on the screen, wearing the rubber flip flops bought more than a year ago from the first trip to the much maligned everyday low price store, a behemoth of a giant across the land. Checking the materials for the day and throwing things needed, while trying to figure out if there is time for breakfast, he walks into the brightly lit bathroom, turning on the shower. Warm water gushes down the shower head, offering a contrast to the slight chill in the room. All cleaned up at the washbasin, wondering if he should use the gooey sunscreen to possibly save himself from future problems. A quick bowl of cereal or sometimes nothing, maybe getting a cookie or a bagel from the cafetaria. Out of the door with a backpack or a messenger type bag, depending on need and mood, bottle of frappucino in hand. A morning begins.