The alarm buzzed and worse the light on my alarm clock goes on. Who invented this torture device? Were they a closet sadist?
I have to pee and my mouth tastes bad.
Dazed. confused. I can ignore those facts. The bed is warm.
Was that my alarm or some great cosmic joke that thinks o-butt thirty is really a time.
I manage to find the right button to turn the damn thing off. Today is Monday. That should be a great life lesson, never try anything new on a Monday.
I think through every reason I should go back to bed. Everyone knows getting enough sleep is the number one thing you can do for your health. I can try again tomorrow and ease my way in.
My heavy scratchy eyes agree.
I swear I used to get up early.
For years I commuted across the city and if I didn’t want to extend my time in traffic by at least an hour I needed to leave early. I’d routinely leave at 6am.
I guess I did once fall over in my own driveway when I tried to ride my bike to the park and ride at about the same time. I’d left my coordination in bed.
That was oooohh so long ago.
I thought I had a history even before that in summer camp. When I didn’t want to be caught in the showers by the boys.
That feels like it happened to another person.
I have a PhD friend older than the last time I really tried to wake up with an alarm and had to be productive.
That can’t be true…. Can it? Gears turn in my head.
It’s a known fact math does not exist before 7AM. Ask a mathematician when they wake up.
It takes a few minutes to realize the lump in my stomach will not allow me to go back to bed.
I get up and pee.
I could go back to bed. I could do the writing as my last thing in a day. I have good energy. I’m a strengths-finder achiever!
The idea of this as a blog post amuses me.
The sound of ocean waves starts on the alarm. Damn you multi-level alarm. Who bought this thing?
My dog is still cuddled in bed. She looks at me and gets up. Her collar jingles. I must save my pillow from dog hair so I make the bed.
I’m cold. I put on pants and a jacket and sit in my desk chair and listen to fake ocean waves.
The dog goes back to sleep. I wish I could. BUT…
I need to give it a chance.
For the record, two weeks were not enough to break the habit of writing at night. Read staying up late. So I did trade in my early bird alarm for night owl feathers….