I left my phone at home

And it was okay. It happened a few days ago. I was late to get out of bed. I lay nestled in my blankets. I wished I could just exist, and that that would be okay. Its not that I dislike my new job, actually, I love it (and at the same time know that its not what I want to do for the rest of my life). I just wake up some mornings and want to be on my own time. I listen to the cars outside the window, the birds starting to sing in the backyard, and I want nothing more than to sit and watch the light grow across my bedroom, filling in the corners of the walls, playing over the holes left from where the last person to live here had hung some art. Eventually, I got up with just enough time to put a small lunch together and make some coffee. I carried my bike to the back door, so as not to wake my upstairs neighbor, and rode over to the train station. Nothing felt amiss, in fact, despite the fact that my slow morning was once again disturbed by the schedule forced upon me by the clock of…