You start the shower and stare woefully into the mirror at the rumpled face peering back at you.  Each day you appear a little more disheveled than the last.  You wonder if somehow you will magically appear more lively and energetic or if this is the inevitable slide down the other side of the hill.  You pull at the corners of your eyes, studying the crows feet that seem to be digging in a little deeper by the moment.  You grab the brush and tame the wild mane that frames your face.  Dolling yourself up for the shower seems a bit ridiculous but its something you do every morning anyway.  Its easier to comb through my hair after the shower, you tell yourself.  

You bend in close to the mirror, scrutinizing a small white head that has decided to stake a claim on the edge of your upper lip.  You pinch and scratch at the little menace until nothing remains but a much larger, red, irritated patch of skin.....far more noticeable than the little spot that previously occupied the domain.   You take a look at the running water and quickly decide that a shower is already more effort than you want to put into your personal day.  You shut it off and decide on a ponytail and a toothbrush as the extent of your beauty regime today.  You pour yourself a cup of coffee and dump in an excessive amount of sugar and cream.  You flop into your overstuffed chair and click on the tv, mindlessly watching the replay of the daily news over and over.   After about an hour,  the sound of the grumbling in your stomach is loud enough you can hear it over the HNN anchor.  You decide to head out for a bite to eat.  You throw on a tattered tshirt and a pair of jeans and head out the door.  It's a lovely afternoon, certainly a good choice for a day off, despite the fact that you've already wasted away half the day.   You jump in your car and head down the road a couple miles to a little cafe you've been to a couple times that is known for its breakfasts.   You walk into the bar/cafe and immediately are greeted by the savory smells of sausage and bacon wafting through the air.  Your stomach begins to growl angrily at you for having made it wait so long for sustinance. You wait, somewhat patiently, by the "please wait to be seated" sign.  You glance around the room, taking in the ambiance.  A long bar stretches out to your left.  Liquor bottles line the back wall, along with a huge mirror, making the collection appear twice as big as it actually is.  Several older gentlemen sit at the bar reading newspapers and sipping black coffee.  To the right the seating extends around the corner of the bar and a little further back.  One young couple sits in the the back booth mooning over one another as their coffee grows cold.  They are holding each other's hands across the table and giggling about future plans and past memories.  You sigh, wondering if you will ever find that kind of blissful ignorance.