My Daily Adventure: Racing with the Clock

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     It is said that desperate times demand desperate measures. While I can appreciate that statement on an intellectual level, I’d rather not prove the statement with personal experience. However, the mistress of luck seemed to have quite a different opinion on the matter; thus, despite my most sincere wishes for otherwise, a minor crisis still came heading my way. My answering scramble was, frankly, one of the most frantic moments in my life.
     The “minor” crisis originated from a mishap with the setting of my alarm clock the night before. By a rare twist of fate, my index finger must have slipped and failed to move the switch; consequently, the little plastic tab was still stuck in the “off” position when I went to sleep. Came the next morning, when I awoke and was slowly blinking the lingering sleep from my eyes, I noticed something very odd. The time on the clock was clearly not what I had expected; in fact, it seemed that I was one hour behind my normal schedule.
     There are very few worse ways to start a day than that.
     To my own credit though, I usually give myself a generous hour and half to complete my morning rituals. This cushion of time gave me the chance to get back on my feet on that morning. If I could cram everything that I normally do in a hour and half into just 30 minutes, I’d still be able to get back on the track of my normal schedule. Hence my adventure of the day: fast-forwarding through my morning rituals at 3x speed.
     Once I decided upon the objective, I leaped off the bed and started pulling on my cloths at a frantic pace. At the same time, my brain was slowly turning and it occurred to me that multitasking was the only way to get through the morning. Immediately, a spark of inspiration illuminated my thoughts: I could let the porridge cook while making myself presentable. Without hesitation, I dashed to the kitchen, turned on the burner, filled a pot half-full with water, dumped a pack of oatmeal into the pot, all at a record-breaking pace. While the porridge was slowing coming to a boil, I ran into washroom and in my haste, splashed handfuls of icy water on my face. A curious sensation flowed from the skin of my face. Then, the sensation of sheer cold hit me like a physical blow. Recoiling and gasping, I shook my head with such vigour that water droplets on my face flew in the air and landed onto the surface of the mirror. Gazing at the image of my face distorted by water droplets, I grimaced. Well, at least the last traces of slumber have evaporated during this little fiasco. I always try to count my blessings.
     Completely awakened now, I sauntered into the kitchen and the sight of my porridge burning on the stove top greeted me.
     Oh, great, I forgot that to speed things along, I left the stove on “high” heat. Sighing with resignation, I dashed to the pot and rescued my burning porridge from the glowing stove top. A glance at the clock told me that I did not have the time to wait for the sorry remnants of my porridge to cool. In desperation, my gaze settled upon the tap.
     Moments later, as the room was filling with rising steam, I felt my last vestiges of hope for a decent bowl of porridge parish as well. Dejectely, I scraped what was left of my morning porridge from the pot. I took a tentative bite. Thankfully, they were still palatable – provided that I did’t mind a few flecks of burnt oats. With the help of copious amount sugar, I was able to finish my breakfast – just barely.
     I checked the clock again and was pleasantly surprised that I was back on normal schedule.
     Many scenes of that day had lodged into my memory: the taste of burnt porridge (which wasn’t that great), the rush of adrenaline through my veins as I panicked, and even the feeling of icy water against my skin. However, all that couldn’t diminish the memory of that moment of triumph, the knowledge that I was able to push myself to the limit and accomplish so much in so little time. The impossible only becomes possible when you try to do it.

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