My Super Fantastic, Utterly Boring, All Out Day

"Hey Isabella, time to get up," my Dad's soft voice gently wakes me with a back rub.

"Mmmmmmmm," I say thickly.

"Okay, breakfast is ready upstairs," he stands up off my bed and walks upstairs.

After my eyes adjust to the bright light in the hall outside my door, I sit up.

It's nice waking up to something you like, for instance, a color. My room is entirely purple. My walls are a average purple with lavender trim. I have a fluffy circular purple chair in the corner. My down comforter is a deep, deep purple. My lamp has a purple shade.

I dress, and then walk slowly upstairs. The first thing I see is my brother. He is combing his hair into his "surfer boy" hairstyle. With his massive ego that surrounds him, I predict that he has been combing for 5-7 minutes. I ask him--"How long have you been combing?"

I yield a huge yawn.

"Umm, like thirty seconds? I dunno. I just started," he says. I can hear his attempt to sound innocent.

"Liar," I thought, "you big, fat liar."

"Umm, why?" he said suddenly.

"Why what?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Ooooh, secret."

"Huh?"

"It's a secret, why I asked."

"Umm, ok? Well then, tell me." His voice didn't sound cool as he intended; it was whiny and desperate.

"Oops! Sorrrry! Can't!" I walk away, satisfied.

* * *

"Heyyyyyy Daddy-o!" My voice is still sleepy as I walk into the kitchen where Dad is making our sack lunches.

"Mornin' Pumpkin." He pulls me into a monster hug.

"What's fer breakfast?" I say, pulling away.

"Today's a cold cereal day," he says, topping off his sandwich with onions.

"Mmmmk," I say lazily on the outside, but on the inside I'm screaming, "Oh yea! Uh huh!"

Let me explain. On some days for breakfast, Dad makes Cream of Wheat; which is my favorite. Saturdays he makes a kind of delicious oatmeal called Steel Cut Oats, very good also. But most days, it's plain, old oatmeal. But not the good packeted oatmeal, the well, I don't even know what kind it is. But My dad makes it probably at 6:15 to 6:30ish. But by 7:00ish, it's jiggley and gelatin-like.

After I munch down my Crispix, and finish the newspaper comics, I style my hair.

I go into the "coat room". It's where we hang our coats, but it leads straight to the bathroom. In the coat room there is a 4.5' by 3' mirror. Awesome for styling hair! It's also got a closet that contains brushes (for our labrador, Taz, and for people) hair gel, hair spray, detangler, medicine, wash cloths, cleaning supplies, lotions, hair clips, nail polish and remover, mini mirrors (to see the back of your hair) q-tips, and cotton balls.

I turn on the hair straightener and the hair curler. After straitening my bangs and curling my thick mane, I pack my book bag.

As I brush my teeth, the clock strikes 7:48. And then- DING-DONG Right on schedule! I rinse and spit, then hop to front door and open it up to my friend and neighbor, Holly.

Afterward, we go outside to the bus stop.

I really only like the bus because alllll of my friends and I are seated in the last two rows. So I spend all my time just talking and hanging out.

UGH! School. (Shudder, shudder.) I'm fine with school and all, but when we're doing ANYTHING Social Studies, well, that's the time to run for it. I mostly just don't like Reading out of a textbook. Which is weird because I'm totally fine with reading my science textbook. I guess it's because we always do hands-on stuff in that subject. (To Mr. Noon, that doesn't mean we should do more Social Studies.)

RIIIIING.
8:30

RIIIIING.
8:35

Yay! (~sarcasm~) Time for math!