Morning Has Broken Me

"If people were meant to pop out of bed, we'd all sleep in toasters."
-- Garfield

Mornings have always hated me, and in return, I've despised them. I don't like to pop out of bed. I try to limit my snooze button hits to three, but sometimes more are necessary, depending on how mean the morning appears.

As loquacious as I am throughout the day, I don't like to talk to people first thing in the morning. I can be very grumpy toward anyone who crosses my path. When I was in kindergarten, my mom used to wake me with a lovely rendition of "Morning Has Broken." I was so nasty to her that my maternal reveille was soon replaced by an impersonal alarm clock.

If I were in charge of the world, the workday would start shortly before noon and end about 9 p.m. I'm in my prime in the late afternoon and early evening, just as others are slowing down.
Since the world is not likely to conform to my recommendation, I'm learning to cope. I'm certainly never going to be a morning person. But my seminary roommate, who knew how horribly rotten I could be in the early hours of the day, has said that I've greatly improved. We traveled together again last summer, and she was shocked at how much more sociable I was upon waking.

I will never be ready, however, to sleep in a toaster.