All in Aphrodite's days work

Irony & Ice Coffee

*Disclaimer: All of these ideas are my own and if they happen to be similar to any other ideas or stories it is completely a coincidence.

                                                                                       Dove

"Dove! Wake up"

I groan in my head. At least I thought it was in my head, but I'm not so sure now, because Fleur just rolled eyes.

"You have work!" she said, her calm tone slipping.

I roll over, face down in my pillow. Ha. Work. It might just me, but would you trust relationship advice from a single person, who has never been in a long term relationship? Thank god that apparently doesn't matter to the magazine I work for, otherwise I would be out of a job.

"I have to go, there's coffee in the pot." said Fleur walking out the door with her floral apron over her shoulder.

"Have a pleasant day!" I say sarcastically, whilst doing the "I just woke up" arm stretch. I didn't even have to look at her to know that she was rolling her eyes.

I get out bed and look in the mirror on my closet. Sandy blonde hair in a slept in top knot and light grey night gown. Typical, I didn't even have to try and I look like a Tumblr model. I turn around and pick my phone off my bedside table to check to weather for the day. Sun is streaming through my window, but sun can be deceiving in New York. I look and the weather app says that it's 82 degrees outside. I give out a little noise of interest. 82 degrees in May. Good job New York. I open up my closet and immediately reach for my favourite pair of high-waisted jean shorts and a floaty white crop top.

I get dressed and sit in front of my makeup mirror at my desk, that is by the window for maximum natural lighting. I pull the elastic out of my hair and let it fall. My hair is long and straight. I cut it short once by accident, but it grew back in a matter of weeks, to much of my relief. I flip my head upside down to put it another top knot. I look in the mirror. My hair is up in a perfect, slightly messy bun. Again, typical. I brush through my perfectly shaped eyebrows. I have never plucked or pulled a single hair from them, but still, poof, arched and symmetrical. I brush through them anyway. Moving on to eyes. I run a single smooth line of black eyeliner across my lash line, and at the end, a little flick. I do the same on the left and look in mirror. They look identical. I smile a little. I have to admit, I'm pretty good at eyeliner. It pleases me immensely when turns out well, which is most of the time. I then find my mascara and coat my top lashes in the black liquid. I don't really know why I do mascara, I have nice, thick, black and curly eyelashes, that don't need a single thing done to them, but I like the way it makes my blue eyes shine. I proceed with rest of my face, a bit of bronzer under my cheek bones, a tad of blush on my cheeks, the littlest bit of highlighter here and there, and finally, lipstick. My absolute favourite part. I carefully put some light pink color onto my lips. I'm pleased with my look. I stand up, and as if on cue, my stomach rumbles. I need food, and some caffeine too while I'm at it.

I head to the kitchen and search for the coffee. I find it sitting in the holder, cold, just how in like it. Fleur and I work well together. She wakes up earlier then me and makes herself some hot coffee, then when I finally drag myself out of bed and into the kitchen, there is always cold coffee waiting. I love ice coffee. I pour in some milk, stir in a bit of sugar and plop a few ice cubes in. For an extra touch I add a pastel pink straw. I take a sip. God, so fricking perfect! I let out a soft moan. It's that good. My stomach rumbles again, so I open up the fridge and see what we have. I pick out my usual, a little tub of strawberry yogurt, the kind with pre-sprinkled granola. I take a seat at our white dining table and realize my laptop is in my room.

"Ughhhh!" I say as I quickly walk into my room and pick it up off the floor, where I left it last night after my chick flick marathon.

When I get back to the table I open up my Mac and go on to YouTube. I search for my favourite performance of the Nutcracker, and start to eat.

When I finish eating, and gawking at the ballerinas, I get up, find my grey Converse and put them on. I grab my most favourite bag of all time, my light blue satchel, and start packing up. I put in my laptop, my pencil case, a notebook, my pointe shoes (just in case I find time to go the studio.) and some other essentials. I take one last look in the mirror by the door. I don't get it. I mean, not to flatter myself or anything, but in most people's books I'm good looking. Why don't I have a boyfriend then? It's not like I have a crap personality either. I take a sharp breath and pull my head up. I think of all the things I'd have to give up if I was in a relationship. There's not many. I laugh. Some how the thought of coffee seeps into my brain while I think about love. I laugh more as I open the door that leads into the hall. I could picture it as a column topic, Do you love coffee more then your boyfriend? I walk out of the building in hysterics.