Make room for something

The alarm blared in her ears at 5:45 a.m. on the button. Like a Jack in the Box she popped out of bed, barely glancing at Norman snorely languidly on the far side of the bed. Two minutes later, having relieved her bladder, brushed, flossed, waterpicked, and mouthwashed her teeth, she entered the warm steamy shower her routine had turned on when entering the room. She shampooed, conditioned, lathered, rinsed, and towel-dryed her body, alive with tension, flew back into the bedroom by Norman's snores and into the dressing closet, choosing a navy blue skirt, white blouse, pale blue jacket, and black shoes to match. At 6:05 a.m. she pattered down the stairs to the kitchen, half a banana and a small glass of grapefruit juice consumed three minutes later. She grabbed her coat from the front hall closet, her briefcase, her laptop stuffed inside, and closed the door behind her at 6:10 a.m. as she disappeared into the morning darkness.

Her one-year old Audi found little competing traffic on the 101 down to Santa Clara. She would've taken the 280 for the views and wide lanes but some things had to be sacrificed for time. She said hello to her office, desk, and the neon lights of her office before 7:00 a.m. She made her task list for the day, grabbed her mug of coffee, and sat down to work only fifteen minutes later. She caught up on her briefs for the day and answered fifteen e-mails just in time for the onslaught of meetings that began at 9:00 and went all the way to 3:00. She grabbed fifteen minutes of lunch for a cup of yogurt and a plate of strawberries at 1:15 before heading back into the meetings -- a cross-section of egoistic overachievers, ambitious neurotics, and insecure geniuses all day long, the advertisers, the finance people, the engineers, the managers, all wondering when they would hit it big or get laid off. She got to her real work at 3:00 in the afternoon, wrote her proposal for the Amazon project and submitted it by 5:00 p.m. She caught up on more e-mail before heading to the parking lot at 6:30 p.m. and disappearing into the evening darkness.

Slow as a turtle she crossed the Valley to the 280 because the extra time in the suburbs and the extra miles on the freeway would still be less than the thirty-mile parking lot of the 101. She waltzed into the city at 7:50 p.m. and parked three blocks from her 24 Hour Fitness, flying through the ladies' room, the cardio center, and a quickie lift session with Turon her personal trainer to head home at 9:10 p.m. precisely. Luck be a lady that night, she parked only two blocks from home and opened the door as her watch cross the 9:30 p.m. mark. All dark, all quiet, she dropped her overcoat and her briefcase, plugged her laptop and cellphone in their chargers, headed upstairs, brushed her teeth, went into her bedroom -- Norman sleeping quietly this time, no snoring thank goodness because she wouldn't fall asleep with sawing in the background -- disrobed in the dressing closet, donned her white silk negligee, and fell into bed and 9:45 p.m. Eight hours later and the alarm would ring again.

"Thank goodness, at least I can make room for a normal night's sleep." She replayed the busy day's events and fell asleep at 11:30 p.m. -- quick for her.