Don't open that door!

When you open the front door in the morning, what would you see and what do you want to change?

            Waking up in the morning is so dreadful to me. I can’t stand getting out of my warm, messy bed onto the cold, unforgiving tiled floor. Every morning I get a call from my dad. He and I live in separate houses, and I’m currently housing a couple of my cousins who are supposed to keep an eye out for me while my mom is away on a business trip.

            My dad always calls at exactly 6:00 AM. There hasn’t been one time where he has ever called me later than that (except for that one time where he thought that I was being dropped off by someone else). I hear the phone as it rings, and I hate the sound it makes; “Crrrrrring! Crrrrrring! Crrrrrring!” Okay, okay! I’ll answer it! I pick up the phone and I answer with the clearest voice I can possibly speak with at six in the morning (though, I still end up sounding like a drunken man at an English pub at three in the morning).

            Even though my dad calls, I pretend to be awake telling him that I’m up and ready to get dressed, when in reality, I’m slowly going back to sleep for another twenty minutes or so. My body automatically wakes up at 6:40 on weekday mornings because I know that if I don’t have at least twenty minutes of getting-ready time, I’ll look like complete rubbish for school.

            When I open my bedroom door, I see down the hallway; at the end of the hallway, I see a mirror. Unfortunately, this mirror only shows how horrible I look in the morning. I enjoy the mirror being there because I can take a gander at myself once in a while, but in the morning, I just wish it were moved. I don’t need to be reminded of how completely disgusting I look; my messed up hair that I put in a bun the night before; my smeared makeup that I forgot to wipe off; my pyjama top that has found its way off my shoulder.