MY PERFECT COMMUTE
A SHITTY GLASS OF WARM MILK , ITS A WARM WEAK SQUASH WITH A WHELK FLOATING AROUND
INTRODUCTION
One sunny morning, the sun blessed me with a shot to the face. My curtains are really not living up to the standards I set for them, but I think it’s pretty bog standard for a curtain to block out some of the sun, as what’s the point in having them? My room would feel bare without them, but really, I don’t think my room has feelings, so I should move on. Well, I got out of bed, looked at my phone, and saw it was 7 a,m and on any normal day I would be shitting myself, as in my mind I’m already late. I would have to jump out of bed, jump in the shower, and then shove my clothes in my bag, put my running stuff on, and sprint to the station. But not today. Today is my perfect commute.
I change out of my PJs into comfy clothes, stuff that makes me feel cozy but not too cozy where I’d want to get back into bed and snooze, just enough to make me move. Anyways, I then pop a polo shirt on and a warm crew neck jumper, which gives off the effect of smart casual with a homey twist. We have all been there. You want to wear your pyjamas, but you know you have that one call where you need to look somewhat professional. So my current attire is completed with slippers. This look will never see the light of day,y but it’s perfect for this situation. I then pick up my laptop and begin the slow, steady walk out of my room, down the stairs, and into, you guessed it, the kitchen to make a cup of tea. None of this cold shit you try to make in a flask, but it’s always cold by the time you reach the station, or it just tastes of metal. Side note.
When you go to a coffee shop, who buys a cup of tea? I do, and I still don’t understand why. It’s just hot water and a bag of crushed leaves; I could do that myself for almost nothing. And no one in a coffee shop ever spends enough time making the tea. It’s a tea bag in, then water, and before the water has finished being poured i,n the milk is already being added. So I’m basically paying for a shitty glass of warm milk. It’s a weak warm squash with a Whelk, aka a tea bag, just floating there uselessly, doing absolutely nothing relevant or useful, like me on DofE. Then you burn your tongue on this piping hot mess. Bad choices, and yet I will still pay £2.59 for it.
But back to my story. I enter the kitchen and pop the kettle on, and once I received this perfectly stewed tea, I make the final approach, the final steps towards the study. And once seated, I have completed my perfect commute. Luckily, as I’m the only one up at that time, there is no traffic or queues, and tbh that would be weird, a queue in your own home.
Then it ends in having breakfast at a reasonable time and not at 6 in the morning when I haven’t got a clue what’s happening. At this point, waking up and going to work is muscle memory. That’s the perfect commute.