Coffee with God

Today was like no different Monday. I woke up with that familiar Monday morning anxiety. In order to eliviate some of this stress, I showered, put on some magic hair potion (read: Morrocan Oil, which I devoted an entire blog entry) and makeup. The wonderful thing about leaving for work at 6:30am (when I’m in the mood to be in awe) is that you see the first rays of the sun bursting above the horizon on Yonge Street. The morning seems so full of promise and optimism.

Unfortunatley, this picture is as good as it gets with my buddy, Olympus. Trust me when I say this morning had a heck of a lot more promise and optimism than that.

Unlike most Mondays however, I bought myself a Starbucks coffee for successfully dragging my ass out of bed at 5am. The good thing about Starbucks coffee is that its soo vile and strong that you are forced to drink it really slow. I decided to try a different prayer routine on the bus. My usual rosary mostly consists of me hurriedly trying to finish it, all the while staring that the hottie who gets on at Centre. He’s not really hot, just cuter than the rest of the working class on the 77 at 6:55 in the morning.

No, today was different. Today held warm weather, Morrocan Oil, Starbucks and a real conversation with God. The kind that felt so good, I cried.

This Monday went great. Tomorrow we do the same drill. Minus the Starbucks and Morrocan Oil.

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