A Reflection on Mornings

My phone buzzed from across the room. And it buzzed, and buzzed, and BUZZED.

I cursed the alarm for waking me up, myself for putting it too far away to hit the snooze button from my bed, and the universe for creating a concept as off-putting as mornings.

After five minutes of mental grumbling, I began to fear the abrasiveness of the next alarm which would inevitably arrive in five more minutes. Then my eyes closed, again. Drifting back into sleep, I wondered about my hungry cats, the banality of my work week, and a strange desire for candy.

WONK-WONK-WONK. Shit. I fell asleep again.

With groggy eyes, a cloudy brain, and a stiffness in my body that takes too much time to shake off, I shuffled across the room turn off my alarm.

Without this system, I would never get to work. Without the need to get up out of bed to turn off my panic-inducing alarm, I simply wouldn’t.

I hate mornings. With a passion.

I have never been a morning person, and I never will be. And that’s okay. Unless you ask me right after I wake up. Then, nothing is okay.

After feeding my two cats and two dogs, I empty the cat litter, pick up after the dogs, and wonder why I have so many pets. Oh, that’s right, I love them, and they add meaning to my life. It’s a lot easier to remember that after I’m fully awake, which won’t happen for another hour at least. I don’t know why people say that having pets helps with stress. It doesn’t.

I’m late for work. Again. No matter how early I wake up, something always eats my time and gets me off schedule—a sick dog, an escaped cat, an imploding house.

I may have mentioned that I live in a condo, which means I have lots of neighbors. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; I just personally can’t stand having nothing conversations. You know, small talk. You listen to someone talk about nothing, respond with a limited acknowledgement of the nothing, and then you might go back and forth about nothing for a while, before exiting the conversation and never thinking about it again, because there was nothing to think about in the first place.

Did you feel the pain of reading that sentence? That’s how I feel during nothing conversations.

Yet, somehow, I have them every day. And it’s always in the morning.

My elderly next-door neighbor loves nothing conversations. I still haven’t been able to find a way to politely exit the conversation early on (and trust me, I’ve tried), so I usually end up getting caught in a 20-minute long exchange that drains me emotionally and makes me (even more) late for work.

My most effective strategy so far has been to leave my condo like a teenager sneaking out to a late-night party. I used to be good at it, but apparently one grows rusty as one gets older. No matter how quiet and careful I am, I often meet a worse fate than nothing conversations — the creepy old guy down the way.

On some days, I’m unlucky enough to get zinged by both of them.

Once I finally get to the car, my morning still isn’t looking bright. I’m already tired physically and emotionally. From my frenetic morning chores, my neighbors, and my impending doom. It’s in this state that I take to the streets, which is where you can see my true morning colors.

I’m an introvert with road rage.

Don’t get me wrong. I believe in kindness, consideration, patience, human decency. I consider myself to be a person with values that enact positive change in the world.  Just not on the road where the assholes apparently live. And what makes it worse is the fact that every time I drive to work, it’s the morning. I think I may have told you how I feel about mornings.

Once the morning passes, socialization is a hell of a lot easier. But I won’t lie to you and say everything is all wine and roses. Oh how I wish there was wine… wouldn’t that make the morning go by much more pleasantly! But, yeah, no. You see, my office consists of characters from The Office except way less funny and more exasperating.

It’s a miracle that I can get through one eight-hour day without needing bail money, let alone an entire week.

It’s not that I don’t like working with others. I do. Sort of. Okay, well, not at all, but, I can work with others just fine, thank you very much. It’s just that my office is filled to the brim with overconfident type-A personalities who are more than happy to tell you the right way to do things even when they have no idea how to do said things. Yeah, thanks for the advice Dwight, but no one asked.

So, after a jam-packed day of Zoom meetings that could very well have been emails requiring no human interaction whatsoever, I inch closer and closer to my sacred wind-down time.

I always notice that my evening drive has a lot less rage than my morning drive. Once I get home, I tend to the pets again; giving everyone dinner, taking out the dogs and the cat litter, emptying and refilling the water bowls, and then I can finally focus on myself (Masked Singer and Great British Bake Off here I come!). And look at that. No bail money needed!  For today at least.

But as Scarlett said, “after all, tomorrow is another day.” And with it comes, you guessed it, a morning. Ugh.

 

Morning Cup of Something

My coffee pot died a few months ago. We had a funeral and everything. It was very sad. I loved that coffee pot like it was my own child.  To add insult to injury, I haven’t had the chance lately to visit the store in search of a few staples (half & half, sugar, a new coffee pot, blah blah blah) AND there was no time this morning to hit the McDonald’s for a fresh (semi-fresh?) cup of joe. It’s the one thing I miss about the very early way too early schedule during the school year. I could swing by the local golden arches and get my coffee before starting work. But not today. So, everything in my coffee this morning, including the sweetener, comes from a tin. Blech.

At least the cup is cool.

 

 

Invasion of the Morning Dog

I hate mornings.  I really do.  This whole “having to get up and be an adult” gig is just not my thing.

Enter Petra, my adorable morning loving dog. She has an almost annoyingly happy morning persona.  If she was human, I’d avoid her until noon. Or drown her in a cup of coffee, lock her in the supply closet, duct tape her mouth shut; you get the point.  I hate perky, annoying morning people.

Petra wasn’t always a shot of energy in the morning. When I rescued her two and a half years ago from our local shelter, she had been abused and neglected.  At age six, she was terrified of everything and everyone.  She was painfully thin, and afraid of loud sounds or even sudden movements; it was as if she was always waiting for the worst to happen to her.  My heart breaks to think what she went through before becoming comfortably ensconced in our household.

After showing this little Chihuahua the love and respect she deserves, she now knows she is safe.  No longer afraid, this tiny giant of a lovebug is comfortable in her surroundings and loves us as much as we love her.  Petra has blossomed under our care and is a completely different dog.  Every day finds her happy to be alive and with us, safe and warm. I know how this must sound and believe me, I’m not trying to “toot my own horn” in the animal care department so much as adequately describe just how annoyingly adorable this dog truly is. She really is just happy to wake up each morning, still here, and shows it.

Now, every couple has their differences.  I get it.  I really do.  But Petra is my polar opposite in the morning.  While I groggily throw shoes at the alarm clock, this petite dynamo seems to just pop out of the covers, every hair in place, with a big welcoming smile on her doggie face. Apart from her morning breath (which is also her afternoon and evening breath, but I digress), she is ready to face the world.  Her little tail wags a mile a minute, and seriously, I have tried to figure out a way to use that wagging tail to stir my coffee.  So far, my only reward for that invention is a coffee cup full of hair.  I don’t think I’ve ever met a human that is so happy to be alive and so eager to greet the day. But this dog has got it covered.

I guess she can’t read my “I Hate Mornings” coffee mug, although I have tried to translate it for her. In sooo many ways I’ve tried to translate it for her.  I suspect she just doesn’t care.  Petra doesn’t wake me up, she is way too smart for that. She doesn’t try to push me out of bed either. If I stay in bed, she stays in bed. She just stays burrowed under the covers next to me until she feels me stir in that “okay, fine, I can’t avoid it any longer and I have to get up now even though I don’t want to” kind of way.  Then, all bets are off.

Bouncing out of bed as if it were a trampoline, my tiny giant is a circle in motion, enthusiastic, tail wagging, smiling bundle of boundless energy.  She is that annoying barista at Starbucks who insists you must pay attention to her as she writes your name on your cup.  “How is your morning?”  Ms. Barista breezes at you, smile plastered on her face as you blink at her in confusion.  “Nice weather, isn’t it?”  Your brain screams “Shut up! Just make the coffee!” but your mouth freezes into the fake smile as you nod and snatch your cup from her overly eager hands.

Petra could be that barista, hands down.  Except for one thing.

No barista was ever this cute.  And engaging.  And infectiously happy.  I can’t help it; I want to be annoyed, I try to be annoyed, but I just can’t.  Instead, her exuberance rubs off on me and I end up smiling myself, like the fool I am.

I’d be a millionaire if I could figure out how to bottle that energy and sell it.  Or, I’d selfishly keep it and sip on it when the cable guy says he’ll be there “between 7am and 8pm.”  One sip, and I’d have the laundry and the housework done in half an hour.

Still, as I brew my coffee and look at my petite dynamo of a dog, I’m glad that her happiness is contagious. I’m glad she’s happy, period. I can’t help but smile at her, no matter how early it is.

The amazing thing is, she always, always smiles back.

 

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Not Your Ordinary Cup of Joe

My life is now complete. Two of my favorite things combined into one hot mug of scrumptiousness. Hell, I may even become a morning person if I can wake up to coffee like this. Okay, well, that may be pushing it a little, but finding a local place to purchase this coffee is most definitely at the top of my “to do” list.

 

click on the photo to read all about this delightful concoction

click on the photo to read all about this delightful concoction