I woke up before the sun this morning, an unfortunate side effect of both the season and my current job. I laid still under my down comforter, frozen by the impending chill that awaited me beyond my bed. Mustering the courage to sally forth into the icy tundra of our tile-floored bathroom, I forced myself vertical and stumbled down the hall.
A sharp blast of tepid water shook loose any remaining lack of consciousness from my brain. The water tried valiantly to climb in temperature, but the frosty morning had imbued the same unmotivating effect on it. Rather than await the warm waters that were percolating somewhere below my frigid feet, I hurriedly finished my shower and sought refuge in as many layers of clothing as would be socially acceptable in my office. Finally, upon achieving the necessary modicum of warmth and alertness, sat down to write before I had to go to work.
Apparently my internal epithets of resentment toward the absent sun had not fallen on deaf ears. As I stared at the blank page in front of me, I noticed the sky lightening outside my window. The implied presence of daylight cast its brilliant reflection through the dancing branches of the tall willow trees, each leaf independently shimmering as wind, sun, and earth collided. The communal affect was a waterfall of light, cascading from the sky, only to disappear into the murky shadows of the still dusky yard. I stared at the tiny flashes of irridescent leaves for a few minutes while waiting for my coffee to cool and my brain to generate an idea. I took a sip and realized that neither had occurred.
The blank page taunted me with its starkness. I tried to muddy it with some sort of penmanship - a word, a sentence, even a phrase or two would suffice. But nothing came to mind and the page remained in it's smug opulence. Then an idea came to me:
"I woke up before the sun this morning, an unfortunate side effect of both the season and my current job..."