Writing for Radio-Assignment 1
I’m running late before I get out of bed in the morning. I have deemed myself, “Queen of the Snooze Button.” All hail. Even when I try to trick myself into being on time, like when I set my alarm fifteen minutes before usual, I still am walking out the door late—but waking up late isn’t the only participant in my procrastination to leaving my driveway. I move like a turtle, literally. Sometimes, I’m too tired to walk to the bathroom, so I crawl to it. It takes twice as long and most often I stop halfway to cuddle with my dog. Why do I do this? I don’t know, because I’m completely aware that I’m doing it. This morning, instead of starting my breakfast, I organized the cups in my cupboard according to size. It took me ten minutes to fill one of those cups with the coffee that I made after my (fung-shway) attack.
Home is never a place I want to leave; it’s a place I have to leave—and let me tell you, I only leave because I have to. I find myself weighing my options every morning: go to work or stay home and fall behind. Go to the store, or eat the baking soda in the back of the fridge. Make the drive to visit my boyfriend, or die alone. Sometimes, I’m willing to take the second option, but nine times out of ten, I end up leaving home to start my day—and as I leave, I count the hours until I’m be back.