The task of highly engineering your journey starts the moment you wake up. These mathematical actions of the rutine get perfectioned during the course of time and cannot be developed from day one.
As everybody knows, engineering requires the domain of different arts, combination of multiple skills and the hability to put them together for a good use.
The night before, while preparing your tea or right afterwards (remember not to let yourself relax of the pumped up stated of mind after surviving the evening rush hour), you should prepare your next day meal, bits and pieces for snack and breakfast included taking on account that you, must probably, will have to eat said meal without the aid of a microwaves and while seating in front of the computer. Not too juicy. Not too smelly. Not too messy. Options are reduced to a third.
Before going to bed, you careful select the outfit of the day, checking the very unreliable weather prediction and selecting the appropriate footwear for it. You prepare you lunchbag, your normal bag, and you set two alarms at the needed time in the morning. One alarm is never enough.
Forgot to say that it is essential to play as a team at home. I find essential to organise turns of coffee-maker hobbing, so that the first housemate that comes out of the shower, is the one in charge of laying a row of cups, put a spoonful of sugar and brewing that Illy coffee while the rest come downstairs. The caffetiere has been carefully filled with water and ground coffee the night before, just in case I forgot to mention it.
As the alarm goes of, the job is quite straight forward. Shower, teeth, makeup, clothes, coffee (and a biscuit if there is time) and off to the tube.
The pace of walking has already been determined by previous trial-and-error experiments. After a while, it is natural. No time for double checks. You've left your phone. Shame.
You know you're late because your 6:45 alert of 'No Disruptionson your line' from National Rail on your phone indicates that you should be halfway drinking your coffee. Passing by the blonde lady neighbourgh at X part of the street indicates the exact minute. If you find her next to your door, you're late.
Approaching the tube station, the Oyster card should be already in your hands. No time from Armageddon speeches from the Pentecostal church down the road. Develop the skillfull task of picking up one, I mean ONE issue of Metro newspaper without deacceleating the pace along the corridor. Same action while touching in the Oyster. Turn to the left to the right corridor of your usual southbound while, with the corner of you eye you check that any of your possible paths to point B is not disrupted.
Train is approaching while walking down the stairs but you know that it strategically waits a few more seconds to be filled with commuters of the line in front, to cope with the flow of passengers. You should arrive to your carriage keeping your cool, not panting. Change at your designated station. Always arrives with a couple of minutes of cushion. Time for placing yourself on the desired tile, next to the forth yellow spot on the platform. Strategic door to come right in front of the best exit to the final stop.
While climbing up the scalator, phone, Oyster and train tickets should be already in hand. Touch out. Oyster to the bag. Congratulate yourself. You made it in one piece to the big station. Put a smile on your face while you walk to your usual platform number X. Happiness disturb fellow commuters.
If lucky, you will get a freebie that day. Cereals, Oyster wallet, organic moisturiser, voucher for 50p off of Lurpak...
I'm hungry now.
Get your freebie without loosing your tickets. Tickets that have been strategically collected the day before as you arrived from work. Placed on the plastic wallet in order of usage. Outward trip. Plusbus. Return. Receipt. Visa.
Get in. Sit down. Think.
You've realised you've developed very strong OCDs.
Welcome to my life