My morning routine

It’s always a pleasure to wake in the morning, stretch luxuriously against my rumpled sheets, then roll out of bed. After a moment to get my sleepy head together, I shuffle my way out into the kitchen, and the first thing I see is my happy friend, perched on the bench, enjoying his first coffee of the day and giving me that wry little smile of his. And I have that sudden unwavering certainty that today is going to be another monumentally great day, one far better than I deserve.



Then I wake up. Stupid dreams and their habit of surpassing reality in every way.

*Hot man stolen from Yarraville Paul. Dreams stolen from my own turbid subconscious.