Routine

Most days when I crawl out of bed it’s at the very same time as my next-door neighbor who we’ll call Sam. I know this because we’ll use the bathroom at the same time. It’s strange to be releasing that first gratifying pee of the morning knowing your neighbor is pissing right behind you on the other side of the wall. So we’re both partially nude and yawning just a few feet away. I listen to the last few drops tinkle and then the usual throat clearing commences. I then trudge to the living room and open all the blinds for my plants. Wolfgang the cat has an emergency – his food bowl is empty and, with impatient meows, wants me to know that immediate action must be taken. At that time I hear the girl below me making her smoothie breakfast as her blender begins whirring. The fashionable dude down the hall with the friendly pup opens his apartment door – the dog runs like mad towards the stairs, its claws sliding on the hardwood floor.  Meanwhile I look out my window to the parking lot below. The unfriendly hipster sporting overalls with one strap dangling leaves in his rusty white pickup truck. The only thing that changes is the weather, and today I’m pleased to see wet asphalt and yellow leaves fluttering down from the trees as autumn makes itself known.

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