We’ve all seen them. Those mythical creatures who bound out of bed at dawn, chirping about sunshine and possibilities. They sip green smoothies with alarming perkiness while the rest of us are just trying to remember how to operate the coffee machine. Yes, I’m talking about morning people.
My Pact With the Alarm Clock (Spoiler: It Didn’t End Well)
It all started innocently enough. I was reading an article about the numerous benefits of waking up early: increased productivity, reduced stress levels, the ability to speak fluent unicorn, you name it. I, seduced by the promise of achieving peak human potential, decided to make a change. No more hitting snooze until the last possible second. I was going to become a morning person, dammit!
- Wake up when the alarm goes off (no negotiating!).
- Drink a tall glass of lemon water while basking in the morning sun (or, you know, staring bleary-eyed out the window).
- Go for a jog while listening to uplifting music (because nothing says “I love mornings!” like pretending you’re in a montage sequence).
The first morning was rough. Like, sandpaper-on-your-eyeballs rough. I stumbled through my morning routine, feeling more like a zombie than a beacon of productivity. The lemon water tasted suspiciously like betrayal, and my “jog” resembled a slow-motion interpretive dance of someone who desperately needed caffeine.
The Universe Had Other Plans for My Inner Early Bird
Things went downhill from there. I started setting two alarms, then three, just to ensure I actually woke up. I accidentally put my shirt on inside out more times than I’d like to admit. And don’t even get me started on the day I poured orange juice into my coffee mug.