When I wake up in the morning, I make my covers into a cave. If I can’t see the world, it doesn’t exist, right?
I can handle blue jersey sheets surrounding and suffocating me, but I’m not sure I can handle the real-life things that do the same.
I’ve discovered that seven minutes is the perfect amount of time to convince myself the world doesn’t exist and then try to prepare myself to face it, all the smiling and nonsense and obligatory “how are you? good” routines that mean absolutely nothing.
Welcome to Microvember, my take on NaBloPoMo. Each day this month I’ll be posting microfiction, short vignettes, or poetry, accompanied by photography. See more Microvember posts here.
Victim to Charm 
I have the snooze on my alarm set for seven minutes. For me, that’s the perfect number of minutes to lay and think about starting the day after the alarm rings.
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Absolutely.
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Err, how weitd. There must be something about 7 minutes because when I was working for somebody else and not myself, the job I had before I went to uni and my first job after uni, I set the alarm to go off at 6:45 but would stay in bed until 6:52.
Maybe the average body clock takes 7 minutes to wake us up?
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I think it’s just a nice number. Not too long, not too short.
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Hej AnnaJeg tror at når man virkelig har forelsket sig i et stykke tøj, hvilket ikke baare er et stykke tøj, som det lyder du har her, er det alle pengene værd!!! Fordi hvis man ikke køber tøjet bliver jeg i hvert fald helt betaget af det enkelte stykke tøj indtil jeg køber det og kan nyde det, så bestemt ikke et tendens crush, som du beskriver det :)wreskwwlifewithpassion-nugitze.blogspot.com
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