The Get Back Sessions

For some reason I've been waking up somewhere between half-an-hour to an hour before my alarm goes off at 6. This despite falling asleep around 2. Not sure why. I haven't changed anything about my habits. I open my eyes and look at the clock then roll onto my back. Instead of drifting back off my consciousness goes knocking about the room next door until it comes crashing into my bed. All the jumbled pieces of dream assemble and fade. I don't remember the dreams other than I know I did dream.
Sit up on the edge of the bed for a bit, find my glasses, coffee and cigarettes. My head is already giving me instructions, reminders and such. Switch on the desktop, music is needed. Couple of games of Sudoku to get the neurons oiled and turning. News and blog posts to read. Already have blog ideas drifting in and out. Put together some more images to print off for my design notebook. An hour later my tongue is coffee-stained. Still need more caffeine.
Writing occasionally grabs me while I plot out the day. My head runs through the work I need to do today. Haven't dressed yet and the ashtray is already getting full. The cats are roaming, on the desk and off. One occasionally curls up in my lap just as I'm finishing my third (fourth?) cup of coffee. Volume goes up incrementally. The blinds go open at once. Still not dressed. Someone has emptied the coffeepot.
There are pills to start taking. Timing is everything. Weather reports, traffic reports, people walking on the street, people walking in the house. God, I'm running out of cigarettes. The mild melodic drone shifts into faster tempos, higher volumes. Hand claps and hi-hats. Muscles call for strain and stress then settle into a relaxed state. I start to lose the thread. More pills. On goes the shiny new album. On goes the fresh post of coffee.
Clothing becomes a necessity rather than an option. Damn wrinkled shirt needs a hot iron. Wrinkled hair just needs a beating. Choices: razor burn or a bit of stubble? The fog that fell in my mind an hour ago lifts. Pills start to kick in. More volume. I'm chewing on my lip again. Need to stop that. More smoke in my lungs. Don't want to stop that. Sort out my bag. Someone reset the clock, it's later than I thought. Sunglasses, keys, cat. Switch out the cat for my wallet. Then the door.
That's my morning, longer now with extra lack of sleep. Very confused about that.