I only dream of my workday beginning at 11 am. Unfortunately, my weekday schedule starts early. I have people who count on me, and sleeping late is not an option. Each evening I set my alarm for the crack of a sparrow’s fart and set the contraption across the room. It is a trick I learned a long time ago to ensure that I can’t hit the snooze button and fall back asleep. It takes a while for the buzzing to seep around the sandman’s tenacious hold. I stumble and lurch with flaying arms. Somehow, I manage to silence the noisy thing. No matter what the clock says, I cannot spring from my bed bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as they say. No. Forced from my bed, my eyes open, and I fumble for the wake-up juice.
After my first cup, I feel capable of extricating my brain from the primordial goo. Downing cup number two, rudimentary speech returns. My third cup renders me semi-coherent, and the ability to hold a non-demanding conversation becomes possible. I don’t need coffee to start my day. But the process is easier on everyone else. I have scared small children and alienated family members when not properly caffeinated. They say I’m not a pleasant person without a swift kick to ease me into my functional humanoid disguise. They have learned their lessons, approaching with caution to press a steaming mug into my hand. They keep a safe distance until the “More Coffee” mantra fades.
What is your morning ritual?
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer