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One gets used to it.

Even to battling against the alarm. No one wins that battle. That’s why the war is still ongoing. There is one trick to survive: being aware there will be a point in time where one shall stand up, maybe even awake. After all, one can count on X years of experience. Without realizing it, one ends up being ready… Officially. The routine machine is now running.

X years of battle… Not every war can claim being that long. Seriously, I might not be awaken yet but being still alive after all these years is still something, isn’t it?

Polluting time has come. Postponing thinking time, the engine starts, and the road is being swallowed. A vehicle wall is getting closer. And closer. Then stops. And so the road. It restarts. It stops again. It restarts. Smoothly then jerky, similar to an accordionist apprentice playing Piazzolla.

The road stopped for good. The carrier is not carrying anything anymore. Everything is in order. It’s rail time, then shoes time.

Everything now stops before the office.

Yet again, miles lost the game. Yet again, routine won.

Today is a day of chosing. The solution will be the same oil-based option as yesterday. An easy option I must say.

 
Radio or not? Another choice. Today I’ll just have the song of the engine.
 
Left queue? Right queue? That’s the traffic jam game. This time, I pick the losing queue. The last shall be the first. I’m probably indeed the first guy of the day to decide enjoying the comfort of my little oil-powered bubble for an extra minute or two.
 
But the real game starts at the office.

Emails first. What is urgent, what must be noted, what can be easily tackled, what can be just ignored.

How much time left before next meeting? Ah yes, that meeting with that guy. Ok he’s going to want that and that. To be managed. As usual.

Never say ‘hihowareyoudoing’. Simply greet, and maybe take some news. In any case, leave time for the other to tell me what he wants to tell. Who knows? Maybe it will be something else than ‘imgreatthankyou’. Routine loses the days we don’t expect it.

Make the effort to stop predicting this predictable colleague. Maybe he would make surprising suggestions. Or maybe he would just enjoy being taken into consideration. Is it necessarily losing time to listen beyond the words? Maybe I won’t get what I want, but I can start being a real actor in the relationship.
 
And all those things I’m doing everyday… If I’m doing these everyday, that probably means it’s useful to someone. Or something at least. Or else I guess I wouldn’t have a job to complain about.

Going back home.

I’m starting a tough exercise. Considering the beauty of the symmetry of a highway. There is something in it, actually. Color contrasts, black and white patterns. A perfection attempt. A model endlessly replicated.

And this triumph of human kind on the impossible. For miles and miles.
 
Am I already arrived? Still unbelievable to be almost teleported by the effects of science.