Catching my breath

Upon waking I generally sigh. It's not always a happy and sweet exhalation at the wonder of life and love. More often it's a pfft of regret that the dreaming world has receeded and a prelude to drawing reality into my lungs. I look down at the pudding near my feet who blinks at me, yawns with a small meow and curls back up to sleep. I always, always envy her.
Legs swing out from cream sheets onto a red persian rug. This is usually accompanied by the thought 'Wow, -I'm really white'. Ambling to the mirror, a brush is utilised and unruly bed hair twisted and clipped up and behind. I don't really like the look, but it is practical-besides, I don't have time to 'do' my hair so that it looks fabulous hanging free.
A quick skin assessment is undertaken with varying results,-usually not too upset by my own appearance. Face is fine. Not supermodel, but not elephant man. Am grateful for the few piddly breaks the universe throws at me.
Am always tempted to apply deodorant immediately (pathological need to smell nice at all times) but this motivates me to get to the shower (work days) or the bath (days off).
I am a fast washer. There's the initial turning on of cold tap followed by hot. The testing for temperature (still clothed) then the super quick shedding of jammies followed by the equally quick 'get under there immediately' dance. Front first, then back, then hair and face. Soapy fluffy shower thing utilised for fast and fairly aggressive scrubbing, perfunctory attention to hair paid with constant thought 'This will make my hair frizzy,-I should slow down and massage my scalp like the hairdressers do'. I slow down for 20 seconds and get bored.
Water off, jump out and grab towel at lightning speed to avoid seeing naked self in bathroom mirror (some things are just too much first thing in the morning). Regretful guilty glance toward scales, and towel wrapped about promptly. Careful exit of bathroom ensues. You have to slow down for 3 seconds between bathroom and hall or you'll slip on the tiles. Speed increases when you hit carpet.
Back in the bedroom, the kitten looks up sleepily and decides that the show will not be worth waking up for. Kitten head curls under paws and the resting continues for one of us.
Towelling dry is another very fast and somewhat aggressive activity. The thought occurs that all this pumelling must be good for cellulite. Do I have any? The thought will remain as it is, because there is no way I'm looking. Moisturiser applied to face with sunscreen. Lush powder sprinkled liberally (making me even whiter), and on occasion 'Karma' cream body moisturiser applied to decolletage and neck. Clothing comfortingly and hastily applied to very white self. Deodorant always forgotten until clothes are on requiring much pulling and twisting.
Now it is time for breakfast. No wonder I'm bloody exhausted all the time.