I have a morning routine that I stumble through every day while my brain is hardly even awake. It doesn’t vary unless there is an external reason for it. My extreme love of this habit is slightly disconcerting because comfort in routine seems like it could become quite obsessive.
- I wake up, and take stock. Half asleep still. “Can I sleep more?” “Is anything sore?” “Am I *really* awake?”
- If the answer to the first is “no”, I masturbate. It is not the sexy lolling about with multiple toys and lots of sexy noise-making that you see in the ‘women masturbating’ clips on the ever-reliable internet. Clit-focussed, eyes closed, my mind conjuring up images that are completely wrong and hot. I come.
- I immediately get up. Naked.
- I open the heavy black-out curtains to the glass doors that lead to the back deck and look out towards the mountains, across the houses, to the horizon. I take note of the weather, and the wind. Today is stunning, the sky a pale clear blue, not a breath of breeze.
- I open the deck door, tie the curtain back. Feel the temperature on my bare skin. It’s cool-ish today, summer is over.
- As I walk towards the bedroom door, I approach the full length mirrored wardrobe doors. I check myself out. I always look much the same, this is more a mental check than anything, which is strange, but true. If I look amazing, or not, it’s coming from my head and has not much to do with my body.
- I go to the toilet (no poetics in this)
- I go into the bathroom and wash my hands.
- I look at my face with the same mindset as I do with my body. A check to see how I feel about myself today. Sometimes I make a face at myself in the mirror. Sometimes I smile, she always smiles back. She is friendly.
- I check my eyes, which are sometimes red. I don’t know why. I blame the computer. Eye drops sometimes.
- I twist my hair up into a comb and wash my face. No soap, just water.
- I put roll-on deodorant on: Rexona Sport for Men because I like the way it smells
- Toothpaste on my electric toothbrush, it goes into my mouth and I pad out of the bathroom, go down the hall to the kitchen.
- I turn on the coffee machine.
- I go to the front deck doors and open the blinds. The sun rises on this side, I look out onto the park, I check out the surf to see how it looks. Today the surf is small and smooth, there is no-one in the car park, the beach would be empty.
- I open the glass door to the front deck and take a moment to be thankful. Sometimes there are people walking or running in the park across the road. I am never concerned that they will see me naked behind my deck doors. Nobody ever looks up.
- I turn on my computer which sits on the couch, I sometimes press ‘play’ on my ipod which is permanently on shuffle, I press ‘home’ on my iphone to see if there were any tweets at me overnight
- I wander back to the bathroom, my teeth well and truly brushed now. I rinse the toothbrush.
- I go back into my bedroom and grab the sarong that I left on the corner of the bed the night before, wrap it around me, knot it behind my neck.
- I go into the kitchen and make coffee, flat white. Hot water into my huge black coffee mug to heat it, the jug filled to the same point with milk and steamed, the coffee tamped just so. I add two fake sugars.
- When the coffee is made, I wipe down the machine, put water into the filter handle and the jug to soak.
- I take my coffee into the living room, settle on the couch, put my laptop on my lap, log in with my coffee beside me and here I am.
I’m looking out onto the park, various birds screeching and chirping, the sound of the occasional car driving past, the trees still in the sunlight, the last rays retreating from my floor as the sun rises in the sky, glimpses of the blue sparkling water.