I like sleep. In fact, I love it. I can’t get any less than 9 hours of sleep without feeling like I only took a nap. However, even if I slept 10 hours (which is my ideal amount on a daily basis) I still will never be a morning person. I naturally wake up crabby. Give me 20 minutes or so and I will eventually allow you to talk to me, but don’t even think about looking my way until I openly acknowledge your existence. I guess I would compare my morning situation to a bear coming up to your camp site to grab food. Everyone just freezes and plays dead while the bear does her thing and then leaves to go distribute your pudgy pies to her cubs. Then 20 minutes later this little kitten(the bear can morph, it just needed time) comes up and wants to play with the campers that didn’t get eaten by the bear. Makes sense right?
Well that lil’ beaut of a girl would be me. Circa age 7. I remember this instance because this would be me every single morning at the bottom of the stairs. Turning the corner to my parents at the kitchen table drinking coffee, reading the paper and laughing at this tiny little girl who looks like she is going to cut a biotch. My dad always called it “Torrey’s you’ll-be-the-first-to-go look.” Waking up to my two parents giggling at me while I was sweating in a non-airconditioned house with 3 older siblings who seemed to wake up perky and ready to eat cereal, really made me P.O.’d.
“Who eats right away in the morning? I need time to digest my anger before I can fill my body with sugary nourishment”
“Ugh, SportsCenter again boys? Turn on something more productive for your brain. Like Sailor Moon.”
“Katie is eyeing me up and down again. I need to make an escape before she forces me to wear another one of her horrendous outfits she picks out.”
And can we pause to talk about those bangs? YES, those are bangs, not a bowl cut. My mother gave bangs to my sister and I that crossed our entire forehead, ear-to-ear. As if I wasn’t an angry enough kid, those bangs sealed the deal. I will probably be in therapy for the rest of my life because I have nightmares about those bangs. Newsflash mom, spend the 7 dollars it would have cost to get us a real haircut where they gave you normal hair styles.
This picture just encompasses my morning routine. Hair and all, I wake up an angry mess. This doesn’t mean that I will be angry for the whole day, not by any mean. I just wake up uncomfortable. Especially if I am being woken up by an alarm or some other commandment that is telling me I better hustle my toosh outta there. In that case, I am mega-bear woman who is rampant on an entire campground and stealing all the pudgy pies and grilled hotdogs, leaving no person alive because I have tons of cubs to feed and no cub-daddy. Again though, I always come back as a kitten to hang out and watch some Sailor Moon once the boys have gone to school.
Wait, I might have mixed up the metaphor with the real thing. Either way, you get the point right? Just don’t talk to me in the morning and you will live to see another day.
“I wake up every morning at 9 and grab for the paper. Then I look for the obituary page. If my name is not in it, I get up.”