A realistic morning routine [satire]

I am convinced that YouTubers are lying to us. I don’t trust anyone who claims to wake up ready for the day, equipped only with a kale smoothie and a yoga mat.

Here’s what a realistic morning routine looks like for a twenty-something with fulltime work.

6:45 am alarm goes off for the first time. Alarm label has been changed to “Get up. You’re an adult with responsibilities now”. Bills by Lunchmoney Lewis is the appropriate song to wake up to. I don’t wake up – instead I hit snooze.

After pressing the snooze button multiple times, I look at the time – 7:20. Shit, not again.

Fling the covers off, half sobbing at the prospect of being out of bed. There’s not even an attempt at making the bed – the doona will remain crumpled in a heap until I get home.

The dog needs to be let out. Quickly, quickly now… waddle out to the kitchen in a daze to get his biscuit. Spread peanut butter on the biscuit and hide his medicine. Silly dog. Let him outside and watch him crunch happily for a couple of seconds.

What was I doing again? Shit. Power walk to the bedroom and put basic makeup on. Concealer, eyebrow gel, mascara, maybe lipstick if I feel like tricking people into thinking it’s taken me longer to put myself together.

Run the brush through my hair and throw it up in a messy bun. Put some dangly earrings in so no one notices the lack of effort put into the hair.

Throw open wardrobe to find my black dress – no not one of those 3 other black dresses! The other one! Rummage through clean laundry piled up in the other room, locate it and pull it on quickly, while stepping into ballet flats with so little support that a podiatrist would cringe over.

Grab bag, rummage through fridge and cupboard to find food to take to work. Throw in some fruit and resign myself to the fact that I have to buy lunch…again because I didn’t think ahead.

Back to the bathroom for a teeth brushing. The electric toothbrush battery runs out not even halfway through the cycle. Quickly, brush up and down manually. Spit. Check. Good enough.

Fast walk to grab keys and bag looking like a woman on a mission. Then leave the house, gravel crunching under the tyres as I quickly reverse around the driveway’s roundabout. Then just battle with waking up and dealing with people who can’t remember how to drive on the 50 minute drive to work in peak hour. Yay!

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