I like mornings. Especially bright ones on foot in the city. People are up and about for a reason; it’s easy to believe the world is on the whole is a well-organized purposeful kind of place.
I smile particularly when I walk past a restaurant or other storefront and they’re outside washing the big windows. Glass in a city gets cruddy fast, and the window-washers are a daily battalion of shock troops in our doomed but admirable struggle against entropy generally. People who ten hours later pause hungrily by the windowgleam to consider the menu, they never think about the minion in the morning light with the bucket and rubber blade on a pole.
And if they’re washing the windows in front, in the back you know they’re chopping and peeling and mixing and baking.
Driving can be good too (well, unless you’re going east) but it could be better. I like all kinds of music but when it’s morning and I’m behind the wheel of a car, all I want to hear is rock & roll, hard fast and loud. I could put a CD in but it’d be nice to be surprised. Sadly, the rock stations don’t play much music in the commute window, that’s their prime slot for ads and then they seem to think the people in cars want airhead DJ banter, mostly.
Hmph, this is a big-government country with an intrusive broadcast regulator that oversees radio formats. Clearly they’re doing something wrong. I’m a taxpayer and I want some damn enforcement; compulsory morning rock & roll please.