Mornings

For any of you who don’t know, I am not a morning person.

I just don’t do mornings.

Not even a little.

This is because I know that I won’t wake up.  Sometimes I try to prove myself wrong.  But as it turns out, myself has better judgment of my sleeping habits than I do.

If I have a paper . . . or project . . . or reading due the next morning, I must finish it before I go to bed.  

Even if that means staying up till five thirty in the morning to do it.

I could do two consecutive all-nighters (not even batting an eye).  Twice.  Before succeeding in forcing myself to wake up at the unwanted hour of six in the morning for the purpose of doing homework (of any kind).

Because that is never a good reason to wake up.

Never.


This morning was no different.

After pulling a very near all-nighter the evening before (because I just had to read four more chapters of Harry Potter) my body was unwilling to wake up.  It required more sleep.  And it would not be deterred in its determination to receive that which it required.

And that’s why this morning when I finally woke up . . . and was trying to lug my pain stricken body out of bed . . . I had to stay put for just five more minutes.

Because sometimes (i.e. in the mornings) I am a slave to my body.

This is also why, when I finally overcame said body I was unable for the life of me to get my shoes on.  I tried fruitlessly for no less than 24 seconds to squeeze my left foot into my left shoe.

And that’s when I realized just what I was doing.

And that made things seem even more hopeless.

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