I am a Porsche
This morning, believe it or not, neither my cell phone alarm clock nor Mark’s side-table alarm clock went off. And instead of waking up at 5:50 which is customary, we woke up at 6:45. The up-side, which I mentioned to Mark later, was that we got an extra hour of sleep. Secondly, I discovered I am a Porsche.
You see, a Porsche has been quoted to be capable of accelerating from zero to sixty miles per hour in 3.9 seconds. That’s fast. And apparently, I can do the same. You see, I knew something was amiss because it seemed lighter out than normal and my body was waking itself up and the alarm still hadn’t gone off. I also remembered hearing the neighbour’s truck leave (it usually leaves at 5:30) and that felt like a year ago. I fumbled for my glasses and squinted at the clock on Mark’s bed stand. Then I heard “SHIT”.
I am a Porsche because I felt no panic. I knew exactly what to do. I can streamline like nobody’s business and I felt myself glide into high gear effortlessly. I think I had my clothes on even before my eyes were fully open. I had the lunches packed before Mark had even gotten his feet to the floor. And it was kind of exhilarating. I then checked my e-mail, packed my school bag, found directions to the Conference I was attending, cleaned the cat litter, and shoved a pill down Frankie’s throat while the rest of the world was accelerating at a normal pace from their REM states.
This morning, believe it or not, neither my cell phone alarm clock nor Mark’s side-table alarm clock went off. And instead of waking up at 5:50 which is customary, we woke up at 6:45. The up-side, which I mentioned to Mark later, was that we got an extra hour of sleep. Secondly, I discovered I am a Porsche.
You see, a Porsche has been quoted to be capable of accelerating from zero to sixty miles per hour in 3.9 seconds. That’s fast. And apparently, I can do the same. You see, I knew something was amiss because it seemed lighter out than normal and my body was waking itself up and the alarm still hadn’t gone off. I also remembered hearing the neighbour’s truck leave (it usually leaves at 5:30) and that felt like a year ago. I fumbled for my glasses and squinted at the clock on Mark’s bed stand. Then I heard “SHIT”.
I am a Porsche because I felt no panic. I knew exactly what to do. I can streamline like nobody’s business and I felt myself glide into high gear effortlessly. I think I had my clothes on even before my eyes were fully open. I had the lunches packed before Mark had even gotten his feet to the floor. And it was kind of exhilarating. I then checked my e-mail, packed my school bag, found directions to the Conference I was attending, cleaned the cat litter, and shoved a pill down Frankie’s throat while the rest of the world was accelerating at a normal pace from their REM states.
I found myself saying “I think I was born to move this fast.” I am a finely tuned machine that operates best at certain RPMs. I needed to stretch my cylinders to find the optimal place. You see, I am a Porsche.
2 comments:
Remember to put high-octane fuel into the gas tank...
at what point did you fit in the diet coke ... i assume that's what alf meant by "high octane fuel"
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