Day one to infinity...
My day starts with... Wait. My day doesn't self-start, it has to be kick-started.
My day is kick-started by the fuel of my dear mom's yelling often accompanied with singing and the mobile alarm set for 6:00 am which shouts ¨Ding! Ding! Ding! Good morning! ¨ . Finally after the nth snooze, I raise my right leg and position my foot upon the floor, followed by the colossal task of lifting my hand to my face to pull open one of my eyelids to make sure it is really morning and not an illusion created by my treacherous mind.
On getting familiar with the surroundings, one eye is left open while the hand moves to the round belly to free it from the itch, after scratching for five heavenly minutes, with one eye still open, the hand moves for the head board for support. Using it as a source of power to awaken my body, I lift my torso up only to plummet back down on the pliable bed, cuddling with the pillow until I finally hear my mother's footsteps.
The energy surge that I get from the sound of her footstep is beyond belief. Both of my eyes dilate and then with the speed of a trained-ninja, I lift my legs up high and then stomp them on the bed to give myself a lift. Within milliseconds, I am standing upright on the floor. The bed is made up with the same vigor, the pillows placed flawlessly.
I rush into my refuge, the lavatory. I secure the door and the pseudo-energy deflates like air from a popped balloon. After a nap of thirty minutes, I remove my shorts, flinging them into the bath-tub. I sit down, wincing at the icy seat. What happens after is no mystery so being indolent; I would refrain from describing that. After washing my hands and then splashing my face with cold water and flinching as each molecule of water attacks my skin, I dawdle out of the door.
Then I stare at the clock disbelievingly for five minutes until I am certain that in five minutes the bus will leave for school. This triggers a nuclear reaction in my lethargic brain and I hasten to the sink with the force of fusion. I manage to brush my teeth in the shower and wear my clothes while munching on an apple. The sound of the bus horn makes me even faster if possible. I have my shoes and socks in one hand, pushing books inside my bag and latching it with the other while I hurry for the bus.
Again, almost in Déjà vu, the vigor gives out as fast as it had come. I sit down on the seat to put on my socks and then even more slowly, the shoes. After which I take a pseudo nap. I am shaken awake again by the bus horn. I walk slowly towards the school, dragging my bag with me. My friends wave at me. I respond by twitching my hand. I slug my way towards them, the morning sun burning my retinas.
I mumble greetings to them and then close my eyes half-mast till the bell rings announcing the start of first period. I hasten to reach the backseat for later bliss. I plop my butt on the seat, my bag half falling from the seat. The teacher comes in, making me come out of my dreams. By the time I rise up to show some non-existent respect, the teacher already asks us to sit down glaring at me. The seat welcomes me once again, as the teacher drones about the difference between casting and cohesion; I try to catch up with her but get lost soon.
I dread the time when a teacher asks us questions on what she just explained. Since I am too lazy to open the book, I inquire for the answer from the guy sitting next to him, he shrugs and goes back to staring at the teacher nodding his head as if he just knew what the teacher was talking about, maybe that is what I should have tried.
As much luck as I have, I am the one she asks to answer, "So, what is Casting? You must know this if you were paying any attention." She stares at me, I open my eyes wide to confirm whether she is asking me. Inside I am trying to interpret her words from before to quest out the meaning of Casting.
"Yes, you.", She stares at me again. Resorting to the powers of my sub-conscious and my creativity in confusing people, I manage to utter," Ma'am, Casting is the opposite of cohesion, it is where you know...". So much for relying on my subconscious. The teacher sighs and asks me to sit-down. The girl in the front raises her hand as if to touch the roof. I glare at the back of her head in annoyance.
That is pretty much how school goes. I am not going to explain each and every period to you, my hand needs rest. After the last bell rings, I start drooling over the thought of launching myself on the couch as soon as I reach home, so once again faster than ever, I dash towards the bus. Singing jovial tunes to myself all the way to home, I sprint to the living room as soon as the bus halts. The bag is tossed away from me and my rump is secured on the couch. My hands take hold of the remote, surfing through channels.
That is pretty much the digest of my evening. The advent of my parents once again charges my battery and I transform out of my uniform into a tee and shorts before they can cross the threshold. The bag is teleported to my room, the remote back where it should be while I am standing at the door with a jug filled with fresh water to receive my parents back from their work.
I speed up to my room with the aim of studying. I open my book and start reading.
One page per minute.
One page per ten minutes.
One page per thirty minutes.
One page per hour.
Slumped on the book face first.
The door rattles. Mother calls me for Dinner, "Are you asleep again? You are always sleeping." I shout back, "Of course not! I was studying.", jumping up and trying to shake my head through the vertigo. I head to open the door. I settle my hair and walk towards the sink to cleanse my hands and my face to get rid of the siesta. I manage to delay reaching to the table to shun setting the cutlery.
I am reprimanded by my parents for being tardy; I grumble and pick up the remote switching the channel. This decision is met by indignation and mutiny. There are shouts of "She was watching TV whole day.", by my nark brother. I grudgingly hand over the control and proceed to pick on my food.
Dinner is followed by retiring to the peaceful heaven called bed, before setting up the alarm clock with the tone "Ding! Ding! Ding! Good morning." in vain.
