Traveling to work every morning is not without its dangers.
When the first alarm goes off at 7:15am it's silenced without a sound. Just a swift arm's throw to the nightstand, a moment's hesitation as the 'snooze' button is found, and then back to dreaming.
I don't know how long a 'snooze' is, if it's universal across all devices, but when the second alarm goes off my arm again flies to its source, groping for the switch to turn off the merciless ringing.
And then there's silence. A good amount of silence that welcomes in the day. A silence that lulls me awake and cleans up the cobwebs. A silence that lifts the weights from my eyelids and readjusts them to the morning light. A silence that relaxes my eyebrows from their deep concentration of sleep. Some days the silence lasts a few seconds, some it stretches longer. Whatever length of time is needed to wake the silence fills to fulfill its duty.
The moment my feet leave the bed and touch the floor I have begun my race against Time - and Time is one hell of a good racer. There is no morning routine, but there are morning tasks. These rotate and change based on their frequency of completion. For example, Monday through Wednesday you may see me eating cereal for breakfast. This would not be true on Thursday, when scrambled eggs would be my breakfast of choice. No matter which tasks are completed on a particular morning they must all come to an end by 8:20am.
From 8:20am I am out the door - usually urged forward by my prescient girlfriend. I've now timed our walk to the car at four minutes. This leaves us with 13 minutes to get to the train station. I take the 8:37am express train to Manhattan every morning, and were I to miss the 8:37am I would be late to work. So far this hasn't happened, but it's inevitable that the day will come.
And then I'm on the train. I'm work bound and left with 40 minutes of solitude to do with as I please. Some days I code, some days I read. Some days I play Angry Birds, and some days I write. Today has most certainly been a day to write.