Every single morning, my day starts the same. At least initially, there is very little variation. I roll over in bed, blinking at the light and trying to swim back into consciousness. I wonder what time it is or if I need to turn off an alarm. So I grab my phone—the modern woman’s clock, calendar and camera all in one. And then it begins. It’s not enough to look at the time. I have to immediately download the slew of vaguely important, definitely intriguing data from Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and my usual round of websites. Every. Single. Day.
This morning, I did the exact same thing. I slept in for once, because it’s Saturday, darn it. The bedroom was bright and sunny when I awoke, and the first thing I saw were the vintage paperbacks arranged on the mantle in my bedroom. I thought about how pretty they looked and flashed back to something I said to my roommate the previous day about how all I wanted to do this weekend was lie in bed with a book and some kittens. Then, the conscious curiosity interrupted the subconscious mind wandering and brain noodling over whatever dreams I’d had the night before and how they related to whatever is actually going on in my life. The dream about work. Fretting a little about how a gift went over. Wondering what the day will hold.
And, bam, that’s it, I needed to know the time.
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