Clocks

Ugh. You stupid alarm. I jumped involuntary and threw my clock; it hit the wall with a satisfying smash. But you needn't to worry about it as in  the top shelf of my wardrobe lay over a hundred clocks, they were stacked there just in case I lost it. People may think I'm crazy, but who wants something drilling noise into your brain going: beep, Beep, beep. It's painful, I don't advise you try it. I slumped out of bed and went to the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth. Looking in the mirror, I saw my plain mousy hair, my thick bushy brows and my small button nose. I definitely wasn't the prettiest but I did try to do something with my hair. I brushed it routinely, making sure all the knots were out. I didn't want to go to work looking like a bird had just splattered poop on my hair, did I? I opened my closet and put on a black suit with a white shirt underneath. Fiddling with the tie I finally managed to do a somewhat decent bow. I smiled in the mirror proud of my achievement. I slid on my flats walking to the door, it didn't open the first time, but on my 300th attempt it fell out of position (I really need to get that checked). I slammed the door causing every living hair to fling out my body (I also need to get used that sound as well as the broken door).

Well that's what I get for moving out of my old house. I sometimes regret the move and change in environment but I really needed to mature. I have lived with my parents for God knows how long and I think it's time I start my own life, on my own. I'm eighteen. Most teenagers my age don't have their parents still cooking for them and cleaning after them. But not all eighteen year olds had jobs and I have one. I treasure this eliment dearly.