This was a regular morning.

The phone alarm jolted me awake. Bang on 7 a.m.

The harsh metallic buzz is not the most zen of sounds to raise one's re-engagement with the conscious world. Slowly, very slowly, I come around. I make out the sounds of my teenage daughters as they busy themselves in their bedrooms on the floor above. Christ. I open my eyes. Agony. Normal service. Head splitting with a familiar pain just above the eyes. Mouth dry and acrid. It's a Tuesday morning. Late November. I stumble into the shower. Hot jets hit my head and shoulders.

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