A Day in the Life of Trevor, Part 1: Morning Rituals

Trevor's heavy eyelids refused to open as Lindsay called him to try and wake him up. Lindsay had been awake for an hour or so and by this time Trevor was sprawled out on the bed in a million different angles haphazardly tangled in the bed sheet. After a few moments and hearing at best an audible groan, Lindsay came closer, sat on the bed and said, "Come on Trevor, it's time to get up, I've got to catch my bus. Let's pray."

After another groan Trevor, tightly holding his eyes shut, rolled his numb body over the side of the bed and landed in a kneeling position with the sheet still wrapped around his body. He resembled something of a mummy. "Okay, I'm up."

They prayed. Afterwards, he managed to sit up and open his eyes, only to close them again and start rubbing them. Trevor looked at the clock, "6:58… Lindsay, you're leaving early. Okay, be safe, have a good day at work. I love you."

"I love you to." They mutely kissed, smiled at each other, and Lindsay rushed out the door to catch her first bus.

Trevor stood up from bed, still rubbing his eyes and gradually working his hands throughout the rest of his face. Finally, things started coming into focus.

He decided on hot oatmeal instead of cold cereal for breakfast. Much more awake now he pulled out a cheap but sturdy sauce pan that had come with the apartment and set it on the stove. He reached up, opened the white cupboard and pulled out the bag of rolled oats they had purchased in the bulk food section of Metropolitan Market. They were surprised to find food so expensive in Seattle and so tried to find cheaper alternatives. They were fine and a whole lot better than the 1-minute kind. Without the oats canister and the indications on them he had to work out the proportions in his head: "Let's see, for two of us we use 2 1/2 cups of water and 1 1/2 cups of oats, but the ratio of water to oats isn't a linear relationship, so if I want 3/4 cups of oats that'd be a little more than 1 1/4 cups of water, so I'll go with 1 1/3 cups." Trevor pulled out the measuring cups, measured the water holding it up to his squinting eye to make sure it was filled and poured it in. While waiting for the water to boil he measured the oats, set them aside and grabbed a pinch of salt. The water started to boil and he dumped the oats in. As he went about grabbing brown sugar and a bowl he exclaimed, ran to the boiling-over pot and blew ferociously on the frothy concoction spilling all over the counter. (Okay, this getting way out of control! Suffice it to say, "he ate oatmeal for breakfast," moving on…)

After breakfast and filling his dirty dishes with water to soak, he hopped in the shower, dried off, put on deodorant, got dressed, shaved, brushed his teeth, put gel in his hair and did his hair. With time left for some morning reading and study, Trevor grabbed his shoes from the closet by the front door and headed out for work.