By Andrea Pinkos
Copyright 2013 Andrea Pinkos
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My mornings start out the same. I wake at 6 a.m. Always 6 a.m. No alarm clock but my internal sense the day must begin. My wife, rest her soul, used to call me a rooster. I liked to think it had more to do with my cock-a-doodle doo than waking up early but that’s another story entirely.
I hop out of bed and start my morning routine. I won’t bore you with the details as I’m certain you’re familiar with the typical morning activities of showering, shaving, getting dressed and eating. It’s really not very exciting.
By 6:45 I am all set for my day in suit and tie, face shaved as smooth as a baby’s bottom, and what’s left of my silver hair combed until not one hair dare stray (on weekends I don’t touch the comb, I let my hair decide for itself what it would like to do). I pull aside the living room curtain and peek out the window to decide which jacket to wear. It looks like rain today so I decide on a raincoat. Sensible choice, yes? Well, whenever I wear it people think I’m a bit daft. It was my wife’s coat after all, her favourite. It’s beige with cute little pink flowers embroidered onto the lapels. She said they always reminded her that the rain was good because it would make her garden grow. Anyway, it’s a perfectly serviceable jacket and since my wife was of a larger size, it fits me with room to spare. Besides, I think it makes me look younger.