"it's in the earliest hours of the morning that you begin to feel most alive. Those sleepless hours before the dawn, the inevitable precursor to those wholly bad mornings. Those mornings where all you want is to crawl into bed with her but instead climb your tired bones out of bed stumbling in what resembles a drunken stupor into the bathroom to request the salvation of hot water and steam; a salvation that as is the case with all salvation always comes half cocked and with a price.
having realized your mounting debt and pretending to come to terms with it you then emerge from the bathroom, stumbling back into your room in what now resembles an only slightly drunken stupor to find something you find halfway suitable to put on in order to greet this wholly bad morning, perhaps something to appease it or at least something relatively appealing to the eye. Settling instead for the comfort of an old pair of worn jeans and the warmth of flannel, you then leave your house and stumble toward a cup of coffee, content that at least certain examples of salvation come at the bargain price of a mere dollar and fifty nine cents."
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