Friday, January 7, 2011

I really am a morning person...

I discovered something about myself this morning while I was lying in bed staring at the clock.  I really am a morning person.  I love the morning time when the sun is a soft yellow and the clouds are light colors and haven't burned off yet.  I love laying in bed and stretching and thinking about all that could be done during my day.  I could get up early and bike down to the farmer's market to get some fresh fruits and bread for breakfast(in the summertime of course).  I could grab my favorite quilt and go curl up on the couch and read peacefully to myself.  I could go eat a lovely breakfast on the veranda (in the summertime again, and not really on the veranda so much as my front porch.) 

But if you ask my husband how I feel about morning, he'll just nervously giggle and back away slowly.  Now why is that?  How can such as happy morning person not come across as being a morning person?  And why don't I ever eat my breakfast quietly on the veranda? 

I found the answer this morning laying in bed.  I may be a morning person, but I'm damn sure not a transitional person.  I don't like change.  In the mornings my feet are a perfect 98.6 temperature if not warmer.  My blankets have created such a coccoon of warmth that no matter where I move, I only experience cozyness and snuggliness.  The mattress has been worked over for 8 hours to become the exact shape and fit of my body so that every bone and fiber of hair is perfectly supported.  Now the farmers market sounds just really fantastic, but I just can't seem to justify jerking my body out of my perfect environment for some stinkin fruit and a gorgous sunrise.  I can lay in bed and fantasize about a gorgous sunrise and fresh fruit right?! 

Why devestate my body like that.  It's effortlessly warm and I have to climb out and shock it into adjusting to 65 degrees...what a strain.  I have to shed clothes that are the same temperature as my skin to put on clothes that are room temperature...I don't think so. 

No I'll just lay in bed and stare at the clock until the very last possible second that I can get up, get dressed, and get my children out the door in enough time to keep my kid out of the school's office.  Then I'll rush home and down some warm coffee in an effort to help my poor innards adjust.  Then I'll stay up later than I should because it seems that the transition from the bed to the world is just as hard as the tranisition from the world to the bed.  What the heck?

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