The ceiling fan was off, but I had a fan on the window to bring fresh air in. I stared at Mary Shelly's Frankenstein and the Haagen-Dazs Ice cream wrapper wedged between my white handbag and a green hairbrush. And there it was a nail clipper in the midst of it all. My bed was an organized mess. The fresh air blew into the room. I did not want to be doing this now. I stared down at my to-do list, the one that seemed like it was never-ending, and sighed. I pushed everything aside and laid my head back on the pillow. I plugged my earphones into my phone, unlocked the screen, and tapped on the Netflix app. I wasn't going to do my to-do list now. I'll get it done at some point, just not now. I smiled as I looked at the uncompleted T.V. shows and movies that I needed to watch. Despite watching the whole show three times, I put on Gilmore Girls. It's okay I'll get my work done. It's okay.
Two episodes later, I closed the Netflix app and went on Facebook. I just want to see what's going on. As I was scrolling down, laughing at some things and at the verge of crying at others, the athan (call to prayer) went off on my phone. I looked at the time it was 3:40. It was salat al-asr. I did not want to get up. I groaned but practically peeled myself off of the bed. My warm feet made their way to the cold floor. I stood at the side of my bed, took a deep breath, and walked to the bathroom. I turned open the faucet and tried to make the water a warm temperature. I washed my hands three times, rinsed my mouth three times, washed my face three times, then my arms three times. My head and ears were wiped with water once and finally, my feet three times each. I was now really cold. I ran back to the room and put on my prayer clothes, which consisted of a hijab and a long dress that covered my arms. I stared at the prayer mat that was sprawled on the floor in front of me and said "Allahu Abar". The prayer has begun.
