Sordidly so did I wake upon the dawn of day, as though it were the beckoning cry of inevitability rearing its bloated pale head through my bedroom window in a shocking attempt to startle me -- hitherto was I dragged from my slumber, limited by virtues known only by the linearity of time and the sweet promises of soft recline. The day, it was to be known, was sickeningly early and my soul was not mused to rise alongside my body through a vain attempt at punctuality. Given the awkward angles of sunlight steered a slanted south, my eyes did not deceive me in their perceptions; in what manner other than lethargic was it traffic moved? The petty persuasions of mass delight were the cholesterol of commute, the blocked arterties of both drivers and roads -- fried culinary attempts at delights lured the sheepish wanting in from the roads, to my disdain. Albeit, my frustration's salvation was abound within double lanes, and such was quick to transport by whitened tar my person to my destination. And at long last it did so seem, the day was nullified to deem: it started off cast down in droop, but ended up with miso soup!