[ WP ] A man with a fetish for mundane events has an average day

I awoke from my dreamless slumber, a smile etched on my face from the uneventful sleep, and quickly rushed to my bathroom. Picking up my toothbrush, my hand shook with excitement from the events about to follow. Left; right; left; right; turn forty five degrees clockwise. Up; down; up; down. Turn again. Shift the hand. More. More. Oh, that wondrous motion and feel. That sweet caressing of bristles, like angel's wings rubbing against a baby's bottom. I never wanted it to end, even as the knocking from my wife on the door begged me to let her relieve herself. 
 
 `` Just use the downstairs bathroom, hun! You know I need my morning brush!'' I yelled, upset at the interruption. 
 
 As the knocking slowly died down and I heard her angrily trudge away, the toothbrush against my gums forced my eyes to escape into my upper eyelids. The sensation was divine, as if God himself was rubbing my gums with clouds straight from heaven. The holiness was in true form this morning as it tended to be at the start of a new work week, and it would only persist throughout the day. 
 
 As I kissed my wife goodbye and headed to my car, my breath was lost to the anticipation of my ride to come. I sped through the empty streets of my neighborhood with a stone scowl, onto the local roads, and toward the highway. As I approached the entrance to the highway, my heart leapt with joy and my scowl vanished as I saw it was backed up, even to the entrance. Once I reached the stopping point behind the car ahead of me, I let out a deep breath and a sigh of pure satisfaction as I slumped slowly down into my seat, relaxing my arms. Brake. Roll. Brake. Roll. Brake. My eyes gazed directly into the brake lights of the car ahead of me, making me feel as though I were lost in a cave of wonders, staring at riches beyond my wildest dreamless nights. Like rubies begging to be looked at, I obliged them and was grateful every time they came back to greet me. 
 
 And the beeping, oh, the precious, sentimental beeping. Every horn with its own unique flare, as a simple press being the identifier of every priceless gem in my midst. Every color of the rainbow presented itself when my eyes were torn away from the rubies temporarily during my rolls, and the honking both near and far was my favorite concerto. This would be Highway's 95th, corresponding directly with my drive, as if the music was perfectly aligned with my pressing and letting go of the brake. 
 
 My exit was coming up. The dreadful idea of never knowing what would be around that bend was the worst part of my days, as markets and signs always had some special sale or one-day-only event. The nerve of some people, to be so sporadic or surprising. It was as if they were directly trying to insult me. If there was one thing I despised, it was the rest of the drive after my precious highway instrumental. 
 
 But despite my utter feelings of betrayal by the roads immediately following the symphony from before, I knew what they led to. As the scowl returned throughout my drive, the grimaces ever-increasing from the bright signs and laughing children, I saw the light within the darkness. Like an Emerald City ready to welcome me in, my office building called to me, the final turn my yellow brick road to a wish I never had to say out loud. It was time for the first Monday of the month; the same meeting, people, and workload I knew was coming. I salivated at the glorious day to come.
