thanking God for the
invention of the automatic coffeemaker.
Filling a travel mug with what is sure to be
the first of many caffeine hits today, I take a moment to enjoy the
view of the sunrise out my kitchen window. The rosy glow extends
into the kitchen while the smaller tendrils of light try to wind
their way further into the living room. It makes me smile and fills
me with a positive energy only the sun can. In the light of that
magnificent orb I feel like I can do anything.
A quick glance at the stove reminds me it’s
0705 and I have someplace to be.
Grabbing a couple of granola bars and a
pitcher of water, I head out the door. Not exactly the breakfast of
champions but I need to eat and I hate breakfast. None of the food
items associated with breakfast are worth eating in my book. I’d
rather wait and waste extra calories on lunch. I stop on the porch
long enough to dump the pitcher of water I’m carrying over the star
jasmine.
“There you go, babies,” I tell them before
hopping in the car and heading to work.
* * *
Hours later I emerge with Joe from what I’ve
nicknamed the command center. Technically the command center is
just a conference room we’ve commandeered for the morning meeting,
but naming it makes it sound cooler. Shortly after clocking into
work and way before our usual morning debriefing Joe stopped by my
office asked me to collect all my project notes and meet him in the
command center. I obliged and was greeted with several hours of
mind-numbing work on the predicament compound 253B was posing,
including a brief chemistry review thrown in by Christine, whom we
Shanghaied when she made the mistake of leaving her lab for a
coffee break.
Right when we were starting to make some
headway, the grumbling stomachs of our crew forced us to break for
lunch. Truthfully, I would rather have toughed it out another hour
or so. Now that we had reworked a few steps, I didn’t want to stop,
afraid of losing our hard earned momentum. Reluctantly I agreed to
reconvene after a one hour break for lunch.
“Are you coming with us for lunch?” Joe asks
me.
“No, I already have plans,” I lie.
“Ok then, see you in a bit,” he replies,
already heading toward the elevators with Charlie. Following behind
the guys, I bypass the elevators and open the door to the
stairwell. It’s a short flight of stairs down to the lobby and I
can probably make it to the vending machines and back before the
elevator even stops to pick the guys up, I think to myself. A few
minutes later, it turns out my prediction was wrong -- the guys
emerge from the elevator about the same time the vending machine is
spitting out my can of Coke. Waving as they pass, I head up to my
office to quietly enjoy my third caffeine fix of the day.
Kicking my clogs under the desk, I move
around my office, opening the mini-blinds and letting in as much
light as possible. Just this simple task helps to cheer up the
stark environment of my office.
Someday , I think, I need to let Melanie in
to decorate the place—it’s so sterile.
Curling up in my office chair and getting
comfortable, I reach for the soda can and pull the tab; I’m
instantly greeted by the sweetest sound on earth: the decompressing
hiss of a freshly opened Coke. Sigh.
Heaven! I think to myself. Savoring that first taste, I dig through
my top desk drawer and pull out a badly battered book and begin to
read. I’ve no more than flipped to the second page when
...
“Ahem,” interjects Melanie to get my
attention. “Are you reading that thing again?” she admonishes.
“I love this book,” I counter.
“Yeah, but you’ve read it a hundred times.
And I guarantee it ends the same way it did last time,” she
finishes. Knowing her disdain stems more from the fact she’s miffed
I’m not using the Kindle she got me for my birthday, I play
along.
“I don’t have anything else to read at work.
I lost my Kindle.”
“You what!” she screeches. Laughing too hard
at
invention of the automatic coffeemaker.
Filling a travel mug with what is sure to be
the first of many caffeine hits today, I take a moment to enjoy the
view of the sunrise out my kitchen window. The rosy glow extends
into the kitchen while the smaller tendrils of light try to wind
their way further into the living room. It makes me smile and fills
me with a positive energy only the sun can. In the light of that
magnificent orb I feel like I can do anything.
A quick glance at the stove reminds me it’s
0705 and I have someplace to be.
Grabbing a couple of granola bars and a
pitcher of water, I head out the door. Not exactly the breakfast of
champions but I need to eat and I hate breakfast. None of the food
items associated with breakfast are worth eating in my book. I’d
rather wait and waste extra calories on lunch. I stop on the porch
long enough to dump the pitcher of water I’m carrying over the star
jasmine.
“There you go, babies,” I tell them before
hopping in the car and heading to work.
* * *
Hours later I emerge with Joe from what I’ve
nicknamed the command center. Technically the command center is
just a conference room we’ve commandeered for the morning meeting,
but naming it makes it sound cooler. Shortly after clocking into
work and way before our usual morning debriefing Joe stopped by my
office asked me to collect all my project notes and meet him in the
command center. I obliged and was greeted with several hours of
mind-numbing work on the predicament compound 253B was posing,
including a brief chemistry review thrown in by Christine, whom we
Shanghaied when she made the mistake of leaving her lab for a
coffee break.
Right when we were starting to make some
headway, the grumbling stomachs of our crew forced us to break for
lunch. Truthfully, I would rather have toughed it out another hour
or so. Now that we had reworked a few steps, I didn’t want to stop,
afraid of losing our hard earned momentum. Reluctantly I agreed to
reconvene after a one hour break for lunch.
“Are you coming with us for lunch?” Joe asks
me.
“No, I already have plans,” I lie.
“Ok then, see you in a bit,” he replies,
already heading toward the elevators with Charlie. Following behind
the guys, I bypass the elevators and open the door to the
stairwell. It’s a short flight of stairs down to the lobby and I
can probably make it to the vending machines and back before the
elevator even stops to pick the guys up, I think to myself. A few
minutes later, it turns out my prediction was wrong -- the guys
emerge from the elevator about the same time the vending machine is
spitting out my can of Coke. Waving as they pass, I head up to my
office to quietly enjoy my third caffeine fix of the day.
Kicking my clogs under the desk, I move
around my office, opening the mini-blinds and letting in as much
light as possible. Just this simple task helps to cheer up the
stark environment of my office.
Someday , I think, I need to let Melanie in
to decorate the place—it’s so sterile.
Curling up in my office chair and getting
comfortable, I reach for the soda can and pull the tab; I’m
instantly greeted by the sweetest sound on earth: the decompressing
hiss of a freshly opened Coke. Sigh.
Heaven! I think to myself. Savoring that first taste, I dig through
my top desk drawer and pull out a badly battered book and begin to
read. I’ve no more than flipped to the second page when
...
“Ahem,” interjects Melanie to get my
attention. “Are you reading that thing again?” she admonishes.
“I love this book,” I counter.
“Yeah, but you’ve read it a hundred times.
And I guarantee it ends the same way it did last time,” she
finishes. Knowing her disdain stems more from the fact she’s miffed
I’m not using the Kindle she got me for my birthday, I play
along.
“I don’t have anything else to read at work.
I lost my Kindle.”
“You what!” she screeches. Laughing too hard
at
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