I’ve deliberately chosen the softest alarm tone on my phone; so I have no clue what the fuck that noise is.

Eventually it penetrates my molasses like mind that this annoyance will simply not go away. The warm comfortable embrace of slumber drops away from me like the victim of a climbing accident; outstretched hand and eyes beseeching.

I hit snooze.

The next time; I know all too well what that noise is and choose to ignore it just the same.

The third time I’m ready for it; lying in sticky eyed wait like a predatory slug, I experience the perverse pleasure of cancelling the alarm 2 seconds before it goes off, “I win mutha fucka!” Buoyed by my first triumph of the day I swing my legs out of the bed. Christ my back hurts. It’s been sore for 25 years but every morning it still surprises the shit out of me. I guess that makes me an optimist. 

I survey my surroundings: discarded underwear; a jumble of cables; the faint smell of last night’s generic fried chicken; seagulls trying to rape and rob each other just outside my window. I guess I’m still in barrow then.

No sense in sitting around. In any case I’ve set my alarm for the latest time possible so I know I have no choice. I shuffle down the green mile towards the shower, “dead man walking.” The rest is brutal efficiency and well honed practice. 7 minutes and 25 seconds later all the major crevices have been decontaminated and I’m dressed in a fashion that won’t offend the technicians or leave me vulnerable to the client (a fine balance). The Green Machine – zero defects.

Bag on the back, a quick pat down of all the pockets; wallet – check; keys – check; sunglasses – check. Then I stand just outside the doorway looking inwards; as the door-closer slowly does what all door closers were born to do, I wonder “what will the cleaner think about me when she turns down the bed” then suddenly I give not a shit and strut off down the corridor.