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The first sound I hear in the mornings is bugle. It is my father in law playing reveille. He is eighty three years old and thinks he's in the army. Then I get my time check as one of the neighbors yells out "Shuddup! Don't you know its six o'clock in the morning?" Yes, it is the start of another bad day.

Do you know what kind of guts it takes just to climb out of bed and face reality? People have been known to sleep their lives away if they had a choice. As long as you are sleeping you haven't a care in the world. Bliss and tranquility all night long. The minute you open your eyes. Pow! NIGHTMARES.

"Darling leave me some money."
"Freddie's hit me with a cricket bat."
"Good morning here is the news: Petrol's gone up ten pence."
"Darling the kids are fighting again."
"I'm sorry sir, but the car needs a new engine."
"If you've already paid this bill ignore attached court order."
"The telephone's been cut off because we haven't paid the bill."
"Freddie's been arrested for drinking again. Can you pick him up from the police station?"
"Good morning here is the news. Interest rates have risen to their highest level."
"Darling, clean up the mess the cleaner's coming today."

My father in law enters the room, pulls back the curtains and sings: "Oh what a beautiful morning Oh what a beautiful day" He looks at me and says "It's oh six hundred hours. Time to get up" and leaves the room. Well it doesn't seem like a beautiful morning or a beautiful day. I look over to my beloved. She is wearing a mask and has ear plugs in. She will not service for another hour.

I pull myself out of bed and get dressed. I have the usual search looking for a pair of socks that match. The closest I get is one black and one dark blue. I have a quick wash, a quick cup of tea and some burnt toast.

The news is on and I discover there are hurricanes in Florida, suicide bombings in Baghdad, the stock market had its worst day since nineteen twenty nine and Paris Hilton is drunk again. And there is further bad news because I cannot find my car keys or my glasses. I eventually find them where I put them behind the sofa.

Six thirty arrives and it is time to leave for work. I open the front door and take a deep breath of polluted air and start a coughing fit. I step outside. I am alone and I say to myself: "Come on, World. I'm ready for you." Who am I kidding?

I head for work fighting the traffic into the city; it's bumper to bumper all the way. Why do they call it the rush hour? I get to work and all the parking places

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