5:00 AM Monday, January 10, 2011.
Pro. It's very warm under my blankets.
Con. It's 5:00AM and my phone alarm is far to excited.
Pro. The automatic coffee pot in the kitchen is even now brewing something strong enough to lure me out of bed.
Con. It's still dark outside.
Pro...I'll come back to this one.
Con. I have to be at work in an hour.
Con. It's Monday.
Con. This is a stupid exercise. I obviously do not need a therapist.
Con. I'm paying a therapist to drive me crazy with Pro Con lists.
Pro. I have great insurance.
I push the covers off and consider adding the immediate chill to the right side of my mental list, but i'm only supposed to think of three. I leave the lights off and navigate cautiously through the room toward the door. My New Year's resolutions, among them, be optimistic, keep my personal spaces organized and clean, quit men, haven't kicked in yet and the floor is strewn with all kinds of potentially hazardous objects. Wincing in anticipation, I twist the door knob and cautiously ease the door open. Despite my efforts the hinges let out a hideous screech which echoes down the hall. I pause and listen for a moment, but the snoring duet from the next room, continues undisturbed. Annoyed (read: jealous) at my parents ability to snore through anything, I clomp loudly down the stairs, (as loudly as the fuzzy slipper boots my mother bought me for Christmas will allow) turning on lights as I move through the house toward the quiet Beep Beep of the coffee pot, which has thankfully just finished brewing.
In the kitchen, I open three separate doors before locating the travel mugs in the lower cabinet next to the sink. I pick a ceramic one with a plastic sippy lid designed to look like a disposable coffee cup, and fill it past the “Max fill” line, before perusing my mother's selection of CoffeeMate creamers. I settle on the Peppermint Mocha and pour in just enough to fill the cup to the brim.
Retreating back up the stairs, I bypass the disaster area masquerading as my temporary bedroom, and head down the hall toward the bathroom. In between gulps of coffee I turn on the shower and begin stripping. The fuzzy boot slippers end up on opposite sides of the room. The t-shirt advertising my almost boyfriend's construction company lands half in the sink, followed closely by the sweat pants pilfered from my father's pile of rejected Christmas presents, two Christmases ago. Still clutching my coffee, I step into the shower and adjust the temperature as high as it will go. The combination of caffeine and steam would definitely be worthy of admission to the left side of this morning's pro con list if I hadn't downed more then half the coffee before getting into the shower, where the rest was almost immediately watered down despite the sippy lid. I clear a space for the empty cup between shaving cream and shampoo and then stand under the steady stream of water for several minutes before reaching for the soap.
In the car twenty minutes later, nursing a third cup of coffee, I am finally beginning to wake up enough to think. I contemplate pouring the rest of the coffee out the window to slow the process, but instead of wasting the caffeine, I reach for the emergency pack of Marb Smooths buried under receipts, trash and assorted chargers and cables in the center console. The pack is mostly empty since my definition of 'emergency' has been a bit loose lately. The flicker of the lighter and one deep breath quiets the clamor of thoughts in my mind. A couple more drags, and I have them almost all under my control. Except for one.