Day one – operation dear god did I really set the alarm for that early

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….

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