A Reason To Get Up in the Morning

I rolled out of bed at 1 p.m. today. I didn’t have to work, so why get up? I remember liking to get up … I think. As a kid, I wouldn’t even sleep on Christmas Eve since I couldn’t wait for Christmas Day to start. The same thing on my birthday. When I was a smoker, I also couldn’t wait to start my day. I loved getting up at 6 or 7 a.m. and having my first cigarette and my first cup of coffee. I spent hours drinking coffee and smoking before I went to work. That wasn’t necessarily a productive way to spend my time but at least I was up. Put that way, maybe I would have been better off staying in bed. The only reason I got up today was because my hair hurt. It must have gotten bent while I was lying on it. I was also tired of dreaming about Greg Kinnear who was trying to pawn his 2D dog off on me. He swore that once it drank water, it would rehydrate and become a 3D dog. He never explained why I should take his dog, regardless of whether it was two- or three-dimensional. 

Some people get up so they can eat. A friend once told me that there are two types of people: those who live to eat and those who eat to live. (She didn’t even consider those who live to drink or drink to live, and I didn’t bring it up.) Since I fall into the latter eating category, and truly prefer to eat later in the day, food is not going to get me out of bed. Being a freelance copy editor offers me a very flexible schedule so I don’t usually have to rise early to get to work. I often work from home, so I can work from whenever I get up until I’m finished.

Another friend, a morning-lover, told me that I was in a depression and should seek help. While she might be right, why is preferring the night to the day a sickness in and of itself? I still get everything done–well, the bare minimum when it comes to housework, and my dog doesn’t get walked enough, and I always find a reason not to exercise, but I think those things would remain constant even if I got up with the birds.

Speaking of birds, we all know that the early bird gets the worm. But what about the raccoon? He wouldn’t accomplish much, stumbling around in the daytime.  And any owl foolish enough to wake with the robins would soon be crying, “What?” instead of “Who?”

I realize that, aside from my night preference, I need to develop a passion for something that will motivate me to get moving. A steady 9 to 5 job would probably fit the bill, but at what cost? If I can make the same amount of money not working 9 to 5, I will always choose that route. I sometimes think about hiring a personal ass kicker–someone who would show up at 7 every morning, drag me out of bed, make me exercise, put me in the car, and send me off to work. I just know we’d come to blows on about the second day, though.

I had a revelation recently, albeit by accident. My car alarm was pealing one morning, so I went out to turn it off and the dog ran out the door and around the block. Dressed in leopard-print pajamas and Fuggs (fake Uggs), I ran around the neighborhood, always a half-block behind the dog, cursing up a storm. When the dog and I finally fell into the front door, I felt an unfamiliar invigoration. I actually wanted to do something, to accomplish something. So, I took a nap.