She's in her pajamas, hair stuck flat to her head on one side and yet standing in tufts on the other. Groaning, she reaches into the cupboard, fumbles blearily for the biggest mug and punches the kettle on with a slight air of contempt.
After tipping, measuring by eye, the coffee into the mug, she reaches up and twirls the radio dial until the reassuring pips resound throughout the kitchen. 'Good Morning', she's greeted, 'and welcome to another day on planet Earth'. With a sigh of exasperation, she tugs on the hem of her sleeve, wondering whether the radio jingle really expects to greet anyone other than the current inhabitants of this rock.
As the kettle slowly rumbles into life, a familiar riff begins to resound from the speakers, and her fingers begin to tap on the side of the counter. By the time the chorus starts, the volume has been edged up and she's moving swiftly across the tiles, sliding across their sheen and spinning around the floor. Her shoulders bounce to the music and watching her own feet, a messy fringe covers her now sparkling eyes - the sleep brushed aside in an exaggerated gesture.
Occasionally a line is repeated as she sings along, the odd hand clap, drum beat and guitar strum escaping. She's laughing to herself, at her own silliness, the speed of which tiredness can be chased away with a favourite tune.
As the song fades to an end, she pours the now boiling water into the mug, still wiggling her hips along to the closing beats and feeling that a boogie was perhaps more beneficial than the caffeine she'd just procured.
Unexpectedly, a hand appears around her waist and spins her around, catching her by surprise and stumbling over her slippers, causing a peal of laughter to escape.
'Dancing without me are you?' he asks with a knowing grin.