Thus The Day Starts...

Have you ever noticed how some folks are "morning people" and some are not? That's probably a stupid question, since that is one of the most general categories of being a human being. You either are, or you're not. Therefore, for the official record...I am not.

This is not something I could help necessarily. It's a genetic thing. Mom....not a morning person. Heather....not a morning person. Adam....definitely not a morning person. Dad was. Poor little guy. It would have been nice if at least one of us would have picked up on that gene.

The main reason I'm not a morning person is because I am a night owl. Just can't turn it off in the evenings. So here I am, 1:30 a.m., knowing I have to get out the door by no later than 7:30 in the morning, counting down how much time I have left to sleep. Do you do that? It's really stupid. "OK, if I fall asleep right now, I'll get 5 hours of sleep. That's OK...I can make it on 5 hours..." Then 20 minutes later it's "OK, 4 hours and...what is an hour minus 20...that would be...uhm - shoot, well OK - more than 4 hours still...that's still OK...If I wear that one shirt I won't have to take time to iron it so I can sleep a couple minutes longer....so 4 hours and...OK, I'm OK."

This process continues several different times until I finally scream at myself (sometimes literally) to SHUT UP AND GO TO SLEEP! Finally I drift away to dreamland. Then, due to the fact that 3 hours and whatever minutes was not nearly enough sleep, I wake up at 7:15, and the fun starts.

Stagger to the bathroom and poke a hot iron through my eyes. Oh wait, that's just what the contacts feel like when you've only had 3 hours and whatever minutes of sleep. Can't find the shirt that doesn't need ironed because my eyes are all bleary from where I just poked a hot iron through them. And I apparently used the only other one that I do have clean as a pillow last night because no iron is ever going to get the wrinkles out of it. But I do what I can and head back to the bathroom where the curling iron is heating up, ready to attack the hair. Only then do I realize that I forgot to turn the curling iron on, and a cold curling iron is a help to no one. It's a sad fact of life.

So I yell at it like it's at fault for not being hot, turn it on and brush my teeth while I wait. Now, you know that period of brushing your teeth when the toothpaste has just become foamy but there is still one clump of it that has not disintegrated down yet? Yeah, that's about the time it will slide right off of my teeth and hike down the front of the only clean-though-wrinkled shirt that I have like a little mountain climber.

It's a good thing I don't cuss.

By now the curling iron is as hot as I have time to allow it to get. Since my eyesight has continued to deteriorate from not only the hot poker trauma but also from looking cross-eyed down the front of my shirt while I tried to wipe the toothpaste slime off of it, I grab the brush by the wrong end and burn the tip of my finger off. This finger is nearly 2 inches shorter than all the others from the numerous times this has happened. Again I remind myself that I don't cuss, and attempt to do something to my hair. Which is futile, because the hair is actually fully in charge of what it is going to look like today, and I have no real say in the matter. (Of course, I don't ever really know what it has done until about 12:30 when my eyesight finally gets back to normal.) It's about this time that I hear my Fox and Friends morning news partners announce that the time is now 7:30, and here are today's headlines. GET OUT THE DOOR - YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR WORK!! (OK, they don't actually say that, but I know what they're implying...)

So, with my wet, wrinkled shirt and psychedelic hairdo I head for the door. ................. Where are my shoes? Seriously - how can you lose a pair of shoes?? EVERY MORNING??? Finally I find them underneath the clean shirt that didn't need ironed. Let's go!! ........................ Where are my keys?? Don't cuss, don't cuss, don't cuss.....

OK, got the keys, got the shoes...we're off. Down the stairs, into the car....drat - it frosted last night. Where's the heet in a can? Spray the windows down...of course the wind is blowing so it sprays all over the shirt which is just starting to dry with a big toothpaste slime mark on it...jump in, take off. Wait....where's my office ID tag? GOOOOOOD.....GRIEEEEF.....back upstairs, grab the tag - HERE WE GO!

The car is out of gas......

Well, it gets really ugly at this point, so we'll just leave it here.

I would like to point out though that there is one exception to this little morning dance. That would be Saturdays when I have no where to go or nothing to do. On those days I will wake dutifully at 6:00 a.m., ready to face the world. Thus the reason for writing this blog with the sun blaring in my eyes this morning.

And reminding myself that I don't cuss.

Here's to hoping y'all have a great day today!!