I’m a morning person.
It’s by habit, no, compulsion. Go back to sleep, the boyfriend urges when I stir on a weekend morn, but the wheels are already turning. He’s drifted off by the time my feet find the slippers on the floor.
It’s not out of love too, but I’m really hoping it will get there. It’s a courtship, when I groggily hit “alarm off” (never Snooze), tiptoe out of the bedroom when I really could sleep for another hour before getting ready for work. But then the early morning–I’m talking 5:00–has its pleasures that one simply can’t find in any other time of the day. A downhill stroll to the gym when nobody else is out on the street. Maybe one or two folks, on the way to work (or home?) I like the solitude, the nighttime shade of the sky, car-less roads. I like this still and quiet version of a familiar world. In the gym, there would be two or three other early birds. Nobody talks. We’re here, no big deal. I’m less harsh during weekends, rising between 6:30 and 7:30am, getting house work done so I’ll still have a sort-of quality weekend.
I don’t mean to sound virtuous with this post; there is nothing noble about a compulsion. I just like efficiency. Head starts. Days fly by, the year hurries. I still think 2017 was last year.
On YouTube, self-styled influencers share their morning routines. Fix bed, meditation, journalling, workout, shower, dress and makeup all before breakfast. Admirable, but I doubt it’s as easy as they’re making it look. I want to tell them, don’t sell this early morning thing to people by making it look so fun. We know it’s a pain. Those who do it are caught between wishing they do it more often and asking themselves why they’re doing it in the first place. Those rare creatures who are sunny and chirpy when the sky’s still dark probably sleep around 20:00 or something. I’m all for early bedtime, but there are jobs and chores, hobbies and Netflix.
Perhaps I should court Sleep first.