First Things First
Every morning—ok, most mornings—I'm reminded that I'm not a morning person. While it's tempting to turn this daily revelation into simple unmotivation, I prefer to smile about it. I rarely fail to do something stupid in the morning. I suppose that means on the rare morning I fail at failing. In spite of (actually because of) their recurrence, I've begun to enjoy taking life's little detours. In fact, I prefer to think of them as the color in my grey sky, even if not so neatly splattered.
In addition to my normal morning grogginess, I've recently taken to the challenge of giving up coffee (lent much?). While I'm proud of my success, it makes for additional morning failure! Of course, when I say "failure," I'm referring to miniscule, almost ridiculous, thoughts that sometimes translate into sloppy actions. I assume this is what most people mean when they say "failure." Although, when some people say failure they really mean catastrophic, heinous tragedy. For example, you might hear someone on your local news say a driver "failed" to yield, therefore hitting a pedestrian. THAT would be catastrophic failure. That's not what I'm talking about here. I'm referring to simply failure. Like, I failed to comb my hair before I answered the door... Or, I failed to plug my phone in before bed and now it's dead.
In the morning (that's the thing about mornings) everything is BIGGER and HARDER. You're whole body and mind have to wake up (mine seem to take their sweet time, preferring to revel in sweet dreams). I'm sure you know the feeling. It's like you're thinking on 1/10 cylinders and your arms are about as strong as feathers. I mean, have you ever tried to lift 20 pounds before you stand up in the morning? Yeah, me neither.... but I bet it's extremely difficult!
Now that my muscles are awake, I walk into the kitchen and put some toast in the—well, what do you put toast in again??? Oh yes, the fridge. The WHAT?!? Oh, shoot! I'm sorry, that was the morning brain talking. I meant the toaster. I slowly and deliberately tell my body to walk over to the toaster.
Ok, step one complete.
Next, I see there's a knife already on the counter for me to use. "Oh yes, how convenient!" Or so my morning mind says. "BUT WAIT," something like a thought begins to form in my brain as I stretch my neurons: I'm the first person up this morning. THAT means this knife is leftover from yesterday morning.... GROSS! I grab it and rush it over to the fridge like it's a hot tamale. Um.... yeah, the fridge. I mentally slap myself in the forehead and remind myself that the knife is dirty, not scalding. I flick it with disgust into the trash can and walk away. YAHH!
I realize my dire mistake and peer nervously into the trash can, hoping beyond hope it hasn't sunk too far (which metal is notorious for doing). This morning, I got lucky; a popcorn bag cradled the knife. I rescued the lil fella and put him in the sink... FINALLY.
I heard my toast pop up, telling me good morning. Clean butter knife in hand, and a smile on my face, I think I'm ready to face the day.
And THAT's how you turn a Sunday into a sunny day.
In addition to my normal morning grogginess, I've recently taken to the challenge of giving up coffee (lent much?). While I'm proud of my success, it makes for additional morning failure! Of course, when I say "failure," I'm referring to miniscule, almost ridiculous, thoughts that sometimes translate into sloppy actions. I assume this is what most people mean when they say "failure." Although, when some people say failure they really mean catastrophic, heinous tragedy. For example, you might hear someone on your local news say a driver "failed" to yield, therefore hitting a pedestrian. THAT would be catastrophic failure. That's not what I'm talking about here. I'm referring to simply failure. Like, I failed to comb my hair before I answered the door... Or, I failed to plug my phone in before bed and now it's dead.
In the morning (that's the thing about mornings) everything is BIGGER and HARDER. You're whole body and mind have to wake up (mine seem to take their sweet time, preferring to revel in sweet dreams). I'm sure you know the feeling. It's like you're thinking on 1/10 cylinders and your arms are about as strong as feathers. I mean, have you ever tried to lift 20 pounds before you stand up in the morning? Yeah, me neither.... but I bet it's extremely difficult!
Now that my muscles are awake, I walk into the kitchen and put some toast in the—well, what do you put toast in again??? Oh yes, the fridge. The WHAT?!? Oh, shoot! I'm sorry, that was the morning brain talking. I meant the toaster. I slowly and deliberately tell my body to walk over to the toaster.
Ok, step one complete.
Next, I see there's a knife already on the counter for me to use. "Oh yes, how convenient!" Or so my morning mind says. "BUT WAIT," something like a thought begins to form in my brain as I stretch my neurons: I'm the first person up this morning. THAT means this knife is leftover from yesterday morning.... GROSS! I grab it and rush it over to the fridge like it's a hot tamale. Um.... yeah, the fridge. I mentally slap myself in the forehead and remind myself that the knife is dirty, not scalding. I flick it with disgust into the trash can and walk away. YAHH!
I realize my dire mistake and peer nervously into the trash can, hoping beyond hope it hasn't sunk too far (which metal is notorious for doing). This morning, I got lucky; a popcorn bag cradled the knife. I rescued the lil fella and put him in the sink... FINALLY.
I heard my toast pop up, telling me good morning. Clean butter knife in hand, and a smile on my face, I think I'm ready to face the day.
And THAT's how you turn a Sunday into a sunny day.
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