Five Shots

I never used to give much thought to my morning routine. As a student, I slept in until the last possible moment every day, leaving myself just enough time to shower and dress, before I had to leave for school. If anything went wrong, be it a few drops of tea spilled on my heavy metal t-shirt, or a last-minute search for a textbook I misplaced, I would have to scramble in order to avoid being late. It was often stressful.

During my junior year of college, I met Neil, a reentry student, fulfilling his life-long dream of attending college, after working for many years, doing every kind of dirty job you can imagine, and some you can't. We were both English majors, who were new to university. I admired Neil for his dedication to our chosen discipline. I appreciated his no-nonsense approach to school and life, as well as his sarcastic yet dorky sense of humor. We became friends instantly. Coincidentally, we both lived about an hour's drive from the university campus, in the same small town. When my transportation situation became untenable, Neil offered to let me ride with him to and from school. It was a pivotal moment in my life. Neil drove us to school every day for the next three-and-a-half years (bachelor's and master's). Neither of us were ever sick. We never missed a day.

Neil became familiar with my morning routine (or lack thereof) early on in our acquaintanceship. I was never late, but I was sometimes a little frazzled when he picked me up. We talked about it. He suggested I modify my routine to be more like his. He got up hours before he needed to leave the house. He was never in a rush. He was always calm and collected. He had everything he needed for school. I don't believe he ever forgot a book or assignment. I saw his wisdom, and I followed his advice.

These days, I wake up two hours before I have to leave for work. I never hit the snooze bar. I don't lie in bed for a few extra moments. When the alarm goes off, I get up. I couldn't sleep in anyway. There are two hungry cats waiting for me to wake up. They're quiet, as long as I get at the appointed hour. If not, desperate crying ensues. After feeding the cats, I take a long shower and eat my standard breakfast of plain yogurt with honey, a granola bar, a cup of tea, and a humongous glass of iced water.

As I lock the door to my loft, I begin to mentally prepare myself for the day's work. Before I head for the train station, I stop at my second living room, or as some people refer to it, Starbucks. The staff knows me. I come every day. They prepare my drink, wisely accounting for the likely possibility that I will answer the daily trivia question correctly. I'm relaxed. My mind is at ease. I feel no stress. Today I do indeed answer the question correctly. Sylvester Graham was the inventor of the iconic wafer that was originally thought to convey health benefits. I am rewarded with an extra shot or espresso in my drink, bringing the total to five.

Thank you for bringing calm to my mornings, Neil. I owe you, among other things, a few hundred shots of espresso. I would never be able to think clearly about those trivia questions if I were as stressed out as I used to be, much less get out the door without forgetting to take my brain with me.