The Gift of Time

I've been given the gift of time. Or rather, I saw time in a shop and decided to nick it. Getting up at 06.55 every morning, there's no limit to what I manage to get done every day. My morning routine is as follows; 06.55AM, my alarmclock goes off. By this time I've usually woken up a few times already due to stupid dreams about Jake Gyllenhaals' head chopped off and served to me on a blue plate (last night's dream was something of a Brokeback Mountain/Corpse Bride crossover). I get up and get my daily dose of strawberry-flavoured soured milk and porridge oats as I watch Simpson's on the telly. I usually finish my delicious breakfast by the commercial break, so I get up and fetch a cup of coffee and my vitamin B-pill that according to the label may colour my urine yellow (as opposed to the neon pink it was before?). 07.30AM I've finished my coffee and hit the shower. Just enough time to get ready and have a look at all the necessary websites (e.mail, uni website, news) before watching Americas funniest homevideos (boy, Tom Bergeron, will you marry me?). After that I freestyle a bit, usually making the bed, doing the washing up, baking a cake and then the second cup of coffee of the day as I sit down to do my studying. This fairly new routine of early mornings and efficient time-spending has completely fucked up my sense of time. I have serious problems remembering what day it is, and in the evening I never seem to know whether something happened earlier that day or yesterday or two years ago. I reckon I'll get used to it eventually.