Sometimes I think my mornings are some kind of reverse auction.
“This morning’s alarm starts us off at sixteen minutes, ladies and gentlemen,* sixteen minutes until you can no longer catch the 7:53 to San Francisco. Can I get any takers at sixteen?”
“One snooze later leaves us at twelve minutes. Can I get twelve? Twelve minutes from bed to door? Twelve?”
“Eleven? Do I have eleven?”
“Ten! Ten minutes to on-time! Do I have—seven! We are at seven, ladies and gentlemen, seven minutes from bed to car . . .”
“Four minutes! Four minutes! Going once, twice, sold to the beautiful bleary-eyed woman in red plaid flannel pajamas.”**
People are right. Auctions are nerve-wracking, but it’s oh so exhilarating when you beat the train!
*Phrase used for dramatization purposes only. Advertised bed is single-occupancy.
**Trained occupant on a prepared course. Do not attempt.