Morning Fail

Cell phone alarm buzzing, what a hateful noise. Sleep for fifteen more minutes? Sure. Snooooooze. Emerging from my nest of pillows and PANIC! 8:51. Stupid, evil, hateful phone. Doing my best imitation of a chicken with its head cut off as I put on yesterdays clothing, pause to turn t-shirt around. No time for tea or breakfast just grab it all and run. Sandals are not conducive to hauling across campus, but an excellent way to acquire blisters. 9:10. Only ten minutes late? Sweaty, breathless imaginary high five. 10:30. Coffee break, coffee and milk with my cup of sugar. No time for food, hurry back. 11:00. Empty stomach and coffee? Cue the shakes. Fuck I'm starving, it sounds like I have a bear hidden in my t-shirt (crap, must have stained it with soya sauce last night). No, space cadet indie girl to my left, its hunger, not rampant flatulence, that is making that noise, eyes forward unless you have a sandwich hidden in your décolletage. Unlikely. 11:50. Freedom! Eight dollars for a sandwich? I'd sell those future children if I had to. Can you inject a BLT into your veins? Hunger is abating, coherence can't be far behind.