The Flash

Good morning! It's 7:22 AM and still dark outside. I used that exclamation point more to wake myself up than to sound bright and cheery, because really, I'm not that bright and cheery. I'm actually relieved and slightly amused.

Why? Because I'm riding the train to work. Twenty-eight minutes ago, I didn't think it was possible. Twenty-eight minutes ago, I was buried under a comforter, relishing my second seven-minute snooze. The world was wonderful.

Through my comforter, I could hear the traffic girl on TV talking about flooded highways and major delays. My plan was to take the bus and light rail in to avoid the entire mess. I rolled over and reveled in the softness of my pillow.

Suddenly, a paranoid thought crossed my mind, "Wait, the bus uses local roads. What if the roads were flooded, too?" It had happened before and wasn't pleasant.

"I should take the train. The last one leaves at 7:17, which means I have to be out of the house by 7:10. It's what time?" I peeked over the comforter and squinted at the clock. 6:54. I swore. Without warning, the comforter flew back and I fell out of bed.

There have been very few times when I've needed and succeeded in getting out of the house in sixteen minutes. Very few times is a euphemism for never. My body isn't trained for that type of speed.

Thirty is a better number. In thirty minutes, I can accomplish a lot: brush teeth, shave, wash face, wash hair, get dressed, fix bed, make coffee, make lunch and watch Katie and Matt while eating breakfast and drinking coffee. Everything is done at a steady and relaxed pace. People who feel compelled to label things would happily label it a "routine".

Subtract fourteen minutes and the routine falls apart. Clothing doesn't match, hair remains damp and coffee develops the nasty habit of spilling. After eight minutes of clumsily rushing around, I wished I was The Flash. Not the DC Comics version of the fastest man alive, with red tights and lightning bolts covering my ears, but more along the lines of Smallville, with a red hoodie and lightning bolt patch on my backpack.

I don't know how I managed to make it out of the house and catch the train in time. It's all a blur and when I think about it, it's slightly amusing how stressed out I was and how relieved I am to be sitting here right now.