Friday, February 27, 2009


To say that I am not a morning person is a gross understatement, and does not even begin to touch how bad my mornings are.

I believe, perhaps wrongly, that I am normally a cheerful and polite person (please feel free to contradict me; just remain aware that I will burst into tears when you do).

And it seems like the way I can remain a cheerful and polite person is to be the grumpiest, meanest bitch for the first hour I am awake. My excuse, at least.

So when I awake, I normally am the epitome of the the hungover, blearily-eyed staggering night owl, staggering to get a coffee fix.... except for the fact that I don't drink coffee, so some Diet Coke or Mt. Dew.

There is a line from "Stranger in a Strange Land" by Robert Heidlein which I am going to paraphrase badly, but describes this condition perfectly: "For a long long time, he had been getting through that black period between waking up and the first cup of coffee by telling himself that tomorrow might be a little easier."

However, this morning was different.

Today I woke up and felt LIKE GETTING UP. I stood up and FELT GOOD. I walked into the bathroom and ACTUALLY SMILED at my reflection in the mirror.

Lord, whatever you did, keep it coming, please.