another morning routine

Per your request, but much belatedly. I wake up. Shower. Correction, when I am not in a hurry, I brush my teeth in the shower. When I am in a real hurry, I do not brush my teeth. Otherwise, in between me waking up and me showering me brushes me teeth (good). Parts are dried, others left to fend for themselves (depending on flexibility, location of part, and if I am in a hurry). Breakfast is usually taken at work (bad coffee, a bowl of cereal -- there is a fridge in the office, where I keep my soy milk, no the cereal is not of the type that remains a gentle, blond lattice on the way out). Before breakfast, there is a commute. It is done by bicycle. Since this is a written record, I fastidiously wear a helmet, stop at orange lights, and help people as I make my way. It's a road bike, so the ride is pretty sweet. Lots of wind, freedom, self-propulsion. At some point, I joyously scoot to a stop in front of a booth that guards the entrance to our garage. The people who attend that booth are generally too busy to notice that I am standing there. I wait three to five minutes for them to raise the freaking bar. Raise the bar people! I yell, dance, and solve systems of linear equations until they take their eyes from the booth and plaster them to the yelling, dancing, solving lunatic. I show them my gov't issued ID. They raise the bar. I think hallelujah, but compose my face. I am at work. It is time for my work face. I walk the bike down the ramp, lock it up, approach the elevator. While waiting for it to recognize me, I think back on the wind, freedom, self-propulsion. Then the elevator comes and I begin looking ahead to soy milk. It will be fresh, the carton will be crisp. I will poor the milk before adding cereal. . . . All that happens after I arrive at the office, boot up my computer, and say hello to my co-clerks. If that day I had brushed my teeth (whether inside the shower or out), they generally respond with some pleasantry. Maybe a comment on the news. Maybe something about there being doughnuts in the cafeteria, which look suspiciously like the doughnuts that were spotted there the prior afternoon. We may argue what the likelihood is that these are the same doughnuts while I poor my fresh milk from its crisp container. Delicious. I eat the cereal tasting nothing but wind, freedom, and self-propulsion... but wait, what is that undertaste? Bandaged regret? Recollections of honeycomb! I burst into tears, hiding my face in the half eaten bowl of cereal. Like a big inverted porcelain teat. That is where the afternoon finds me.