My alarm rang at 6:56 AM, and I stopped it. I have two alarms in the morning. The second one is set for 7:05, but it never gets to do its job because I cancel it the moment I open my eyes and slip into a strange 9-minute state—half awake, half asleep. It’s a mix of mild panic about getting late for work and the comfort of those extra minutes in bed. This, I believe, is my version of the Pursuit of Happiness.

I played some music on my phone, blasting through the empty apartment. One of the perks of having the place to yourself is the silence—you get so used to it that you start enjoying the freedom. I went to brush my teeth. Now, here’s a fun fact: I own an electric toothbrush but still use it like a regular one. Why? Because I’m hopeless with technology.

After a quick shower, I caught a familiar scent—Mysore Sandal Soap, tucked on the second shelf of my soap stand. It reminded me of childhood. Small moments like these bring back memories when you least expect them.

Breakfast isn’t really a thing for most Indian students-turned-working-professionals in the U.S., and I’m no exception. But for some reason, last week, I bought a big carton of eggs—18 of them. I remember this because, despite my terrible memory, some random details stick. Every morning, I’ve been making scrambled eggs with two of them. Today, there was just one left.

After my micro breakfast, I did something I’ve been trying to stay consistent with—applying sunscreen. I had ignored it for years but decided to restart the habit this New Year. Deep down, I know no skincare routine can outmatch genetics, and mine isn’t the best, but hey, you do what you can, right?

I got off the bus at Port Authority and started my usual 18-minute walk to work—a routine built over two years of showing up, whether I wanted to or not. As I walked past Times Square, I barely glanced at it, just like I do every day. It’s always there, in my peripheral vision—on the left eye in the morning, on the right eye in the evening. This is exactly how I look at my office colleagues too. I talk to them about as often as I attend company parties—which is twice a year.

Work was the same as usual. On my way back, I walked towards Port Authority again. Manhattan’s evening sky? Unmatched. Times Square was to my right, the bus line was long, and I was already thinking about getting home.

Once back, I made some coffee, grabbed a pack of Parle-G biscuits, and settled in for a quiet evening. The perfect way to end just another day.

Talk to you soon.