5:30 AM: Alarm. But not just any alarm, a pandora alarm, that plays a random song, at full blast, in my ear. This morning’s tune was a rousing chorus of some obscure rap song. Needless to say, when an un-identified male voice sounds in my room, I am very quickly roused to alertness. Pressing snooze would be counterproductive, as I was so wide awake already that sleep would be impossible again (this does not apply to an hour of lecture on the history of America that comes later in the day). I flopped, as gracefully as a dying penguin, from my comfortable, warm, and cozy nest of blankets; ready to begin the day!
I went to the bathroom to begin my routine, thenfirst step of which was the gift of sight (putting in contacts). As I blinked them into place I noticed a brownish blob reflected in the mirror. It was right on the edge of the ceiling, very high up. Hoping it was not one of those eight-legged beasts from Hell, I focused on in. Low and behold, the body solidifies into a lovley, quarter sized, spider. I am 5,5′, the ceiling is maybe 7 feet. This spider has the ability to enact vengeance, he could jump on my head, he could actually be a she and give birth. No other family member is awake and I am left to deal with this on my own. Retrieving a chair, and a large wad of paper towel I begin the battle. Obviously I take a protective measure by covering any entry to my body with a sweater. Now I stand on the chair and approach my target, it does not try to escape but seems to accept its fate. I promptly smush him and continue my day.
First hour, uneventful. Second hour, almost puts me back to sleep. Have you ever talked to somebody whose voice is just, patronizing? I’m sure my lovely teacher cannot help it but I feel a touch like I am in a therapy session. Third hour, fine. Fourth hour, we play with acids. Obviously an appropriate past time for any decent student. Thankfully all my skin remains where it should be and my eyes are still in my head (the latter due to some extremely fashionable and flattering safety goggles). Ahh. The sweet relief of lunch. Fifth hour, math. Possibly among my least favorite of topics. I survived. Sixth, american history a.k.a taking notes on someone talking in a dark room for an hour. It was not the fault of the teacher or lesson, but simply the fact that it was warm and dark and I was very tired, I managed to escape the lures of sleep and remained mostly alert.
After school, play rehearsal. A read through for Cyrano de Bergerac. This involved three hours of exaggerated “ohs” and “ahs”, a few threats of revolution (complete with confidently standing on the desks), several instances where a drunk man complains about pastries, and a fully grown man playing Charades where the word was “giving birth”.
Went home. Got food. Completed “extended school” (homework). And at last, I can get my long awaited sleep.
See you again soon, Salutations; Mara