It's happened three times already.

Bleep, bleepy, blip, blip, blippy, BLEEP. Smash!
The morning routine.

Alison, this duvet isn’t some bulletproof sleaze boss protector. It won’t take away the incessant spreadsheets that no one cares about. It won’t deflect the ‘bantz’ from Carl in the coffee room. It certainly won’t stop that bitch Helen from getting the ‘giggles’ in at the 9.15 briefing.

It’s nice outside, Alison. It is. Look.
They say today truly is a joy to behold.
So, come on Alison. Up you get and off you pop. Get your joy. Go and behold.
Go for a run, make a smoothie. You could even buy that thing....you know, that special thing that you've been wanting for ages. The one in the shop window that's been 20% off RRP forever. It could be yours, Alison, if you'd just throw off the blankets.

Carpe Diem or something.

You know you must pee and take a shower. Maybe pee in the shower (YES, Alison, you are GROSS too, just like THEM). Save water. Save time.

We are in this together, you and I. We can smash this day. We can!

No, don’t roll over. Look at me when I am talking to you. My digits are ticking over, and we are not getting any younger.

Alison, I think you’re great. I do but I can't take it anymore. You set me for a time that you know you will NEVER get up for and bash me repeatedly like it’s my fault that you chose this life and chose this time. Every day.

This co-dependency has to end.

Nine extra minutes, three times a day…sometimes four. That’s a half hour every morning. That’s almost three hours a week, just drifting. Hating yourself.

It could be so much better.

If you would just wake up.

Bleep, bleepy, blip, blip, blippy, BLEEP!

Smash!