There are those who are considered "morning people" and those who are "night owls". I would say that I have long considered myself to be a solid, functioning member of the latter group and I believe it to be genetic. My mother, for example, will stay up until the wee hours of the morning playing games on her computer (And when I say "games", I mostly mean the card games that come standard with most operating systems because my mother, despite being a highly intelligent and educated woman, CAN NOT, no matter how many times we try and break it down for her, CAN NOT figure out how to navigate the Internet.). (For the record, I still don't know where to put that damn period!.)!. My father will "stay up" with her, but by that I mean, he's actually sleeping on the couch while the t.v. is playing some black and white movie in the background. (Sidebar - My father has a knack for finding every old, black and white movie on t.v. and will INSIST it's a movie he has never seen before. However, when a movie is coming on t.v. for the first time and is being advertised as the "premier" showing, he will become equally adamant that he HAS seen that movie before and then will go on to tell you what it is all about. I have no idea how he has done this throughout my entire life, but he has. Incidentally, when he sleeps on the couch, he can be snoring and you will feel confident that he's completely out, but as soon as you approach the remote to change the t.v., he's now wide awake, will tell you what was just happening in the movie and will lay a guilt trip on if you want to change it, saying something like, "You can change it if you want, but it's a nice movie. I really like this one". If you leave his movie on, he gently drifts back into a peaceful slumber. If you do change it, he remains wide awake and, if you've been lucky enough to pick a movie that is from the 20th Century or later and has any profanity in it, he groans every time someone swears. It's great fun.)
Anyway, as I was saying, I've long been fond of staying up late. At least, I should say, I HAD long been fond of staying up late. I enjoyed watching late night t.v., hanging out with friends, taking spontaneous trips out (e.g. the casino, a local establishment, Florida) and it didn't phase me because I knew I would be able to sleep in. The times when I was not able to sleep in, however, were highly unpleasant. Things like getting up for school or ... well, actually, maybe just getting up for school, were painful, but I functioned on only a few hours of sleep and seemed to do just fine as long as no one actually interacted with me. If I had to get up early for something else, things could go either way. For example, if I had to get up early for an appointment - not pleasant. If I had to get up early to catch a flight somewhere - no problem, baby! Mimosas, Bloody Marys, or my good friends, Stella and Sam Adams, are always ready to help in that regard.
It's not surprising that my fondness for evenings grew as I moved from my teenage years to adulthood and my options for entertaining myself in the wee hours dramatically improved, as did the pool of friends who would be available to play with me. One of my oldest and certainly dearest friends, Cristina, was right there with me as we moved from our teens on to bigger and better things. Strange thing about our friendship was that she was not really one to enjoy playing with Jose, Bud, or Sam, but she did enjoy dancing (As much as I would like to elaborate on that last comment, I feel I need a release from her before I share any other details). Even stranger still, however, was that she played for the other team. She was one of "them" - a morning person. And, when she got up in the mornings, she was actually chipper. Yep. Smiley. Happy. Loving life...at ungodly hours of the morning. Now, I have been told at various time in my life that 4, 5, and 6 o'clock actually happen twice a day and, while I have come to that cold realization now, in my younger years, I thought it was just an urban legend. I didn't think anyone or anything could actually function at those times (except for the time I went to NYC to see the Thanksgiving Day parade...that's a story for another time. And, damn, it is a funny one). Cristina, however, was living proof that some people not only function at those times of the day, but actually thrive! Crazy, right? Not only was she a morning person, but she was really into activities like running (Again, I would like to elaborate more on some of her running experiences, but I still need that release. Without it, she could bury me with what she's got on me. Just saying). It's amazing our friendship has survived, but it has and I love her.
So, wait, where the hell was I going with this? Oh, right, The Change. At some point in my life, I began to go through The Change. No, not that change! I'm not that old! I mean, I began to transform from a person of the night to something else. Work was definitely a culprit because I had to be up in the morning to get there. And be showered. And be dressed. And be ready to work. I swear, some companies want so much from their employees! So work didn't help and when I went from office jobs to working in a school - well, they wanted me there even earlier! WTF?! When that happened and I had to set my alarm clock to go off at 6:15, I honestly cried some mornings. It was not pretty. I just kept telling myself, "It will get easier as you get used to it". Well, I've been at this job for almost 10 years now and I'm not used to it yet. Then, our little Bundle of Love (henceforth referred to as BOL) came along and she really sent the transformation into overdrive. Except there was only one problem with that. She wasn't really a night person or a morning person. She was more of a "I'll be up whenever the hell I damn well please and you'll be ready to feed me!" kind of person. Really put a cramp in my style, I tell you. Now, she's almost 3 and is getting into a groove, but it's a morning groove. And, of course, the school still expects me to be at work on time like everyone else. Overachievers. And, now that I have to get BOL to daycare and make sure she eats in the morning, I'm getting up even earlier. I don't even want to tell you what time I get up because I dare not speak it's name. I will tell you, however, that I have figured out that each time I hit my snooze button, I get an additional 9 minutes. I have also figured out there is a "nap" setting on my snooze button that will give me 1 more minute. I have used them so often, in fact, that the snooze button is starting to fail on my clock. Actually, maybe it's not from using them so often as much as it is the force with which I activate them in the morning. Let's just say, I'm pretty sure I have voided the warranty on the thing at this point. And, sadly, I still do cry in the mornings (or swear so much it would make my father groan and give me a lecture that it was because I didn't watch more black and white movies).
In fact, even after my shower, I'm still not fully functional. One problem is that I don't drink caffeine (when I do, it's not pretty. I kind of look like a middle aged soccer mom on speed for about an hour or so before I crash. It's actually a lot more gruesome than that, but that's enough information for the purpose of the story. All you need to know is that I'm not putting Juan Valdez's children through coffee school). Most people know that they shouldn't tell me anything important or expect much from me before 10 or 11 am. In fact, one of my coworkers (who is one of "them") finds my morning suffering quite entertaining as I flail about like a fish slowly suffocating and dying before being returned to the fishbowl and getting reengergized (I don't really flail about. It's just literary license. If I was truly flailing about, I would hope that my coworker would call the nurse...or a priest...or someone). Another problem is...well, there is no other problem, really. I just don't do mornings. It's genetic, remember? And, say what you will, but you can't fight nature.
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