my day at the office

Generally it is hard for me to wake up in the morning. I've never been much of a morning person, though there are a few exceptions. I shower, dress, put together a sparse breakfast and pack a lunch, and brush my teeth and put on a tie depending on whether or not it is a business casual day.
I leave and lock the door even though Shawna is at home, but she is asleep. I usually make it half-way across the street and stand there awkwardly as cars blaze by, and wait to cross successfully to the other side. There is a usual crowd of commuters who take the same bus as me, sometimes that group is more fluid and there can be new faces. On the bus, I read a book and don't pay attention to anyone around me so I have no idea whether they are passing through their mornings feeling awful, blank, or cheerful. If I am tired, I try to catch some catch eye, either way my stop downtown always seems to come too soon. I walk the 6 or so blocks to work along the same route everyday, and everyday pass the same homeless people who don't beg for money like every other person in Portland seems to do. The only difference is how light and how cold it is at that time, which obviously changes with the season.
I brush my wallet (within which is my entrance badge) against a small black box and then I am allowed to open a door of the One World Trade Center, press the buttons 1-2 for the elevator so that it will program the 12th floor in its route up. The elevator door opens and a variable number of people step inside. The first stop is on the 2nd floor, and usually some person bashfully steps out there, when they could have simply taken an escalator to get there.
I reach the 12th floor and step out into it like I'm an exclusive member of an elite organization. I see a fellow colleague who I have nothing to say to so I say: "Hey, how was your weekend?" if it is a Monday, and if it is any other day I say: "Good morning, how are you?" with a big smile. They answer something equally as calculated, probably relieved they didn't have to make more conversation as I open the main door to our office which is made of glass and embedded in a glass wall. I was told 4 times on my first day that they don't want us to touch the glass and to make sure to use the handle. So I open the door by the handle, drop my stuff of in the closet if I plan on going to the gym after work and go over to where my computer is, and say good morning to the people who work around me. I start up the computer and walk over and pour some coffee or tea for myself and then return to my desk. The smell of coffee makes me feel good about life.
I check my e-mail and start working on a "project" which consists of data entry in some form or another, the difficulty and tediousness of which is unique for every client. Difficulty at my job is not like organic chemistry. Difficulty for me at work is needing to stay busy constantly and get into a dead-zone of no thought and only repetitive, mechanical movements so that I don't think about how boring and meaningless to me what I do actually is.
I usually forget where I am for a couple hours and then come out of it and do nothing for a brief moment to rest. I usually overhear the woman who is down the hall talking on the phone as though she were right next to me, so sharp and distinct her voice is made by the office's acoustics. If she is talking to a friend, I think, why do I need to hear this and if she is talking to a client I think, how phony does she sound?
Lunch restores me quite a bit. I'm usually very hungry by the time lunch rolls around and I try to take the elevator when no one else is going down for lunch to avoid awkward elevator conversation and just because in general I don't like talking to people sometimes. If someone is standing waiting for the elevator as I am about to leave as well, I either bite the bullet and pull off a charming Eliot, or I duck into the men's room which is right next to the elevators. When I come out just a moment later, like magic that person has miraculously disappeared, swallowed up by the elevator. And then I go down alone because I like the quiet.
Coming back from lunch, I do the whole elevator routine again, the door thing again, perhaps the coffee/other beverage run again, and finally the copy-paste thing again. And again and again...
After a while, 5 o clock rolls around. I gather my belongings, say good evening to whoever happens to be around. I repeat the same procedure regarding the elevator ride down, flipping a mental coin as to whether I'll allow some arbitrary task to "distract me" from catching the same elevator as another one of my coworkers. I step outside into Portland downtown and sigh, relieved. A good friend of mine once said that everyday when he leaves work he feels like a piece of him dies. Another friend of mine once said, 'at the end of the day, it's what you want [..and I'm cold, so I'm going home]' That last one has stuck with me all these years.
As long as this isn't what 22 years leads to, I cannot complain.