...That's What She Said

Monday morning at 5:45 a.m. an alarm goes off in a dark bedroom in Daytona Beach. At 6:00 a.m., a girl brushing her teeth with one eye partially opened ponders the existence of morning people and worries about their mental stability. She buckles her seat belt and releases the parking brake at 6:45 a.m. and then parks in her designated space of the downtown Orlando parking garage at 7:47 a.m. Having been on the road just long enough to listen to one kick-butt album in its entirety, she decides that maybe there's something to the whole early morning thing. It certainly was nice to not have to rush out of the door 10 minutes before needing to be at her desk at 8:00 and having to run up the stairs in a race with the time clock. As lunch time approaches, she retrieves the brown paper bag that her boyfriend had packed for her the night before. Inside she discovers a lunch far superior to anything ever sent with her to school during her childhood. Smiling, she happily munches on all the healthy treats such as carrot sticks, an apple, pretzels and sandwich on yummy oatmeal bread and saves the cookies for her 3:00 p.m. "Goulet Attack" break. Seated back in her car at 5:10 p.m., she shifts into reverse and begins the commute home. After much brake tapping through Orange and Seminole Counties, she finally makes it to the home stretch off the highway. She pouts as she tries to stretch her cramped knee and curses all those who do not know how to drive properly in the rain. At 6:25 p.m. she approaches the intersection that leads to her new neighborhood and notices something in the right side of the view through the windshield. From a cloud directly overhead to the general area of her new residence was a brightly colored pastel arc. As if she needed any further proof after the little brown bag from heaven, this rainbow was showing her the way home. Going along with the symbolism theme, she asks herself if this new life is to be her pot of gold? She likes to think the answer is yes.

Footnote:
**Now she just asks that her dear friends remind her of her first day of commuting and how well it went when she calls to complain that she's been stuck in grid-locked traffic for an hour due to an accident 17 miles up ahead that she'll never see because by the time she gets to that exit after wasting half a tank of gas and burning out her clutch, the tow trucks and emergency vehicles will have long since cleared the wreckage. She thanks you in advance.