7 a.m. waking up in the morning. Gotta have my bowl but cereal makes me nauseous.

What a wonderful era we live in to be able to see a doctor that won’t go through your organs with waste covered hands. An era of medical breakthroughs and being able to find out exactly why your Aunt Martha smells like maple syrup after she eats creamed corn. What a world we live in to be able to give butter faces a fighting chance and to permanently freeze a look of childlike wonder on the face of someones aged grandmother. We can even remove enormous uteri to put photos of on the internet for imaginary points and approval. Let’s just admit it, America, we have it pretty good.

Pretty good, indeed. Until some cantankerous nurse decides to move your appointment to 7 a.m. on a monday morning. I’m not sure what about my persona gave her the assumption of “early-riser” or “morning person” when she was playing chinese checkers with appointment times. Maybe it was the dark circles under my eyes or the way my I wear a blazer. I will never know her reasoning and not even Robert Downey Jr. as Sherlock Holmes could decode it, but damn would he look good trying.

Either way, there I was, driving along empty streets at 6:30 a.m., smoothie in hand, wondering if I really needed to see a doctor. I should have just craigslisted a witch doctor to rub eggs and squirrel tails on me while singing the national anthem of Saudi Arabia in B flat. At least then it would probably be around 4 and I’d at least get a free squirrel tail.

My car is just humming along the winding roads and I feel my head brush the ceiling with every movement. With a navy, french blazer, a line navy skirt and white blouse I look pretty good besides my hair. Clean. Then I realize that I look a bit like a new age nun in this outfit. The type of nun that walks around saying things like “Hey, kids, God is sick, yo. ‘Naw’m saying”. I shudder at the thought. While I’ve never been an atheist by any means, I’ve never quite trusted nuns.

I settle into a MisoNice shaped pile of grumbles and pout and pull into the parking lot at 6:59. My car is the only one in the lot. Thinking surely theres a back lot for employees and that there’s no way that they scheduled me before the clinic opened, I turn off the car, gather my things and walk to the door.

As I take the first step onto the stairs of the entrance I walk through a spider web at face level. Now, for anyone else this may be a minor inconvenience, but for a person such as myself with a distinct fear of spiders and being blinded, having those two fears suddenly manifest and combine in a combo attack from Hell sent me into a flailing and screaming explosion of caged emotions. As I flail about madly like a crazy armed used car dealership inflatable, I step back and snag my ankle on a piece of upturned concrete. An audible snap resounds through my head as pain suddenly shoots up my leg.

“WHY? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?”, I scream to the heavens as the darkest of days officially claims my monday as its bride.

I regain control of myself and check to see if the spider web was still standing before I hobble to the door yet again, using the railing as a crutch. I push the door and it won’t budge. At 7:15 I peer inside the tinted glass door to an empty office. The lights aren’t even on yet. I grumble expletives as I limp and hop down the steps and drag my ankle behind me back to my car and get in.

I’ll just wait for someone to show up and read until then, I think to myself, so full of hope and innocence.

Then I turn the key. Nothing. I try to turn it again. Still nothing. My car has died. I bang on the steering wheel and start smacking the car in a fit of rage. The car essentially gives me a huge “Screw you” as the sun begins to hit the roof and heat up the interior. Suddenly its a sauna in here and I must now make the decision to either suffocate or expose my hair to the humidity of a Texas summer morning after days of heavy rain. I think about suffocating and think about how at least I would look nice in the end. Like a nun with nothing to lose but nice all the same. In a moment of weakness I open the door and I just feel it. I feel my once perfectly blow-dried and carefully straightened hair begin to grow. Soon my car will be filled with the quickly expanding nest. I look like 1976 Disco-version of Hermione Granger.

As I recline on my pillow of frizz, the first nurse pulls into the lot at 7:42. I have never been so excited to see a rusty old pontiac in my entire life.

One thought on “7 a.m. waking up in the morning. Gotta have my bowl but cereal makes me nauseous.

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