I wake up.
The time is 6 something, which means I slept around midnight. Or maybe it’s 7 something and I only went to bed four hours ago. My devices are within reach, a lazy stretch away perhaps. I’m about to roll over but I stop myself. I take a minute to breathe, to welcome the day. Then I roll over and flip it open.
Is there feedback? Is there a message waiting? Does everything work as expected? Do I have enough time to make some progress on that other thing before I start my day? Has my brain untangled those thoughts that lulled me to bed?
But first, I catch up on Twitter. Someone is happy. Someone is angry. Someone is making jokes. Someone has shared something interesting. Another ten minutes pass before I catch myself. Time dey go. It’s a new day and my to-do list is a bottomless pit.
The time is 9 something. I’m in fresh clothes — a plain coloured tee and shorts. I’m downstairs by the electric kettle playing tea roulette, one of the highlights of my day. Strawberry? Earl grey? Hibiscus? Hibiscus.
I sit at the table and do my email/internet rounds as my beverage cools. Ayomide works while something nice plays on the speakers. This must be one of my better days. Depending on what weekday it is, maybe I started with a run. Or maybe it was group meditation with office friends.
Other days start a little different. On some of them, I don’t have time to change from green tee, cream shorts to yellow tee, blue shorts. Maybe I promised to complete something and need to keep my word. Or maybe the calls start too early and they’re bumper-to-bumper. On days like this, I can’t help myself. I start working right away and keep it going.
I probably start with VS Code, maybe Slack, maybe Notion. Maybe it’s for work, or one of my ideas, or one of the things I help people with. I start somewhere and work my way through the day, one project after the other.
Today is another day of sitting at my computer.
I have an easy life. I get to build things that make me feel good about myself. I get to work with amazing people who treat me with love and respect. I get to pursue my (frivolous) interests with reckless abandon. But recently, I‘ve been wishing for everything to stop.
I know this feeling is temporary. I can project myself into a future where I wake up and have absolutely no one to answer to. I also know it’s not too far off. Maybe a month or two.
Maybe I’m in Chicago. Or Paris. Or Utrecht. Maybe I’m back in a city with a delightful built environment, where the streets tickle me, where I get lost on the stations, jog to landmarks, visit the stationery shops, sit by the pier and read. Maybe I’m travelling through Nigeria again.
Or maybe I’m still here. In Lagos. My car is working again, the Third Mainland Bridge is open, I’m pursuing new interests, going out is exciting again. Maybe.
Until then, I guess I’m stuck with this fucking routine.