I woke up that morning, not really having any intentions for the next 12+ hours that I would be awake. I hesitated to get out of bed, but, hey, when you have stuff to do, you don’t want to get out of bed, but, when you don’t, you just have to get out of bed. My situation was the latter. I slowly trotted over to the bathroom, where I lazily squeezed blue paste onto my even bluer toothbrush. Rubbing and scrubbing my teeth wasn’t fun, especially when my gums decided to start gushing out red liquid because of my poor dental hygiene: a direct result of my laziness. Goodness, now I had to eat something. I walked down my steps and the scent of syrup snuck into my nose and propelled my feet quickly into the kitchen. After the habitual round of good-mornings between my parents and me, I quickly sat down and awaited my breakfast. My parents plopped two waffles and vertically sliced strawberries, in front of me. They handed me the Aunt Jemima syrup and I poured away; if the syrup was rain and the waffle was my town, the whole town would flood and die. I took a monstrous bite into the checkered carbohydrates and knew that this moment, right here, right now was the best thing ever. I downed my glass of skim milk and practically ate the rest of my breakfast in one bite.
“Sweetie, maybe you should go out, today, with one of your friends. It’s the first day of summer, after all. Have a little fun,” my mom said.
“Yeah, go do something that you want for a change,” my dad added.
“Yeah, maybe I will.”
I knew that I should get up and get out, but, hey, it’s summer. I can do whatever I want for the next few weeks. But that’s going to be the future. This is the present: the next 12 hours. I got up out of the kitchen and ran outside, to soak up the day’s infinite source of solar energy.