Sleepless Sunday

I call it Sleepless Sunday, and I wish that had changed, but not for me. It was my destiny, or so it seemed because these sleepless nights always cost me Monday morning. The anticipation of the week ahead does it to me, or the dread; I cannot quite put my finger on it. One thing is sure: as I lay down for rest from an overrun weekend, I will become restless and only fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning. Then, BAM, my alarm goes off, welcoming me to another week of insanity.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

And we're off.

I'm not one of those hit-the-snooze, lie-back-down kind of people. Nope, not me. With the first beep of the alarm, my hand shuts that thing off, then I roll over, sit up, and I'm on the move. I shuffle down the hallway, careful not to wake anyone else in the house, and go into the spare bedroom, tripping over my shoes.

"Damn it! " Who left them there? Yeah, yeah, it was me.

I went to the kitchen to get the coffee, then headed into the bathroom to fix my hair and brush my teeth. Five minutes tops, and I was ready for that coffee. I heard the machine stop, so I knew it was ready and waiting.

I could never tell you what that rich aroma and first sip does for me. It's my wake-up call, that familiarity like a soothing massage to my system. Sitting on the recliner, I take in the quiet, drink my coffee, and bask in this moment, which is all mine. Heaven.

Looking up at the clock, it's five fifteen. I have to run, for another week has just begun.

WC: 288
Prompt: shoes, hair, run