The Perfect Day

Waking up at around 8am feeling like you could run a marathon. No fogginess to speak of, not in your head, not outside. It’s a beautiful sunny day, with just enough chill in the air to blow the cobwebs out of your lungs.

On the way to the bathroom, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Damn. You lost a little bit of weight. Those pyjama bottoms are sitting right where you want them to.

The perfect shower, it goes to exactly the right temperature. Warm enough to accentuate the under-the-covers glow you’re still rocking, but not so warm that you never want to leave. You have a new… what are those things called that you put soap on and wash with? Those poofy things. A new one of those, and it’s like being scrubbed by your parents when you were a kid and the tub was a playground, and they just want to make sure you’re clean, because Lord knows Grandma’s gonna check the back of your neck.

Great shave, no nicks. You have the skin of a 12 year old.

Turn on the radio and there it is. Fuckin' Everlong. If you ever meet someone that doesn’t like that track, destroy him. He’s a robot.

Clean t-shirt, comfy pair of jeans. Those sunglasses that make you look and feel like a boss.

Next track: Jefferson Airplane’s Somebody to Love, a song that just makes you sing along.

Catchin up with your buddies for breakfast. On your way, you get checked out. A blatant leer, too. Someone won money on the game last night, so they buy you a Caesar.

After breakfast, you bump into your ex in the street. She isn’t as hot as you remember. You wonder why it took you so long to get over her. That, alone, is worth the mental fist bump with yourself. And you can’t have a good day without the Beatles, specifically Rubber Soul’s I’m Looking Through You. It’s got enough simple swagger to make walking down the street feel fantastic.

A day off from work. All you have to do is nothing. Anything. Let’s go get drunk together. Let’s not get out of sweatpants all day. Let’s just go hang out in the arcade and play House of the Dead. Thanks to the extension of adolescence, it’s totally cool to loiter again.
Finish off this perfect day with a beer, the hockey (your team won, fuck yes.) Lupe Fiasco’s Kick Push soundtracks your walk home. Nothing gets in your way, you feel unstoppable. Back to bed.

You just won Life.