It's early on a Monday morning. I hate Mondays; they scream reality. I'd prefer to be sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by blank pieces of paper, watching one of my favorite TV episodes on a DVD player perched up by the window. I'd lay there, wrapped up in my warm pajamas, effortlessly writing across those white pages; blank as the cold snow outside. I'd leave my room around eleven or twelve to eat a apple with carmel, washing it down with a cool glass of lemonade. Then, I'd go back, bringing along my cat to keep my company. It would be a perfect day. I'd continue that routine, maybe switching the TV to a classic rock station for awhile. Nothing beats a relaxing moment on an unreal weekend.

So here I am on this early Monday morning, pretending it doesn't exist.
Fortunatly, school is delayed two hours. Reality can wait . . .