morning person!” I declare to my bewildered cat. Now, for anyone who knows me, this was a bold statement. I’m not just not a morning person; I’m practically allergic to mornings. My spirit animal is a grumpy sloth that just wants to be left alone until at least 10 AM.
But this time felt different. This time, I was going to conquer the morning. I set my alarm for a horrifying 5 AM, visualized myself jogging at sunrise with a green smoothie in hand (delusional, I know), and drifted off to sleep, feeling strangely optimistic.
Day 1: The Snooze Button Became My New Best Friend
The first sign that things were going downhill was the sound of my alarm clock the next morning. Or rather, the sound of me violently swatting at it like a bear defending its cubs. After several rounds of this aggressive snooze button tango, I finally dragged myself out of bed at the ungodly hour of 6:45 AM.
Remember that sunrise jog and green smoothie I envisioned? Yeah, that didn’t happen. Instead, I stumbled around my apartment like a zombie, tripping over furniture and mumbling obscenities at the coffee maker for not brewing fast enough.
By day three, the novelty of my “new life” had worn off faster than a cheap pair of tights. My attempts to be productive before work mainly consisted of:
- Staring blankly at my computer screen while mentally writing strongly worded letters to the inventor of alarm clocks.
- Accidentally flipping off a cheerful jogger who had the audacity to smile at me while I was wrestling with my coffee thermos. Sorry, not sorry, Brenda, you should see the other guy (me).
- Daydreaming about all the glorious sleep I could be having if I just gave up on this whole “morning person” charade.
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