I weak up every morning lying in my far too warm and cosy bed. But getting up every morning is practically impossible. Or so it seems despite the fact that the previous mornings have proven the opposite. The first thing I see is my window to the outside world. But the world is not viewable as it is covered by my white Venetian blinds. But the world is not interesting though. Suddenly nothing’s interesting. Instead it’s grey and boring and most of all it has no meaning whatsoever. I can never remember what I’m supposed to do except the boring things like going to work. And during the winter, the thought alone of going out in the cold is terrifying. And then I have to figure out what to wear, and as a girl (unfortunately) I need time to put on make-up, fix my hair and walk around the whole day in my ultra high-heeled shoes until I feel my feet are gonna crackle underneath me. These are just some of the things going through my head lying there in the morning. It’s about this time in my daily morning ritual that I decide that is so not worth it to get up and my eyes slowly close again. But only until I with horror wake up again too late for work and then drag myself away from paradise – my bed.
From the time I wake up until about twelve o’clock I still hate the sun, the day, the light, and whatever things that are to blame for my necessity to get up. After twelve it all starts to clear up though. I start feeling better. The feeling of being chronically tired starts to wear off and the dreadful feeling I had earlier on begins to disappear. This lasts until about three or four o’clock in the afternoon where work begins to bore me and I begin to feel fatigue and especially hunger. The hunger is especially noticeable on those days where the dreadful morning “sickness” has been really bad resulting in me getting up so late that I don’t get to eat any breakfast. I therefore gladly and with a sense of freedom rush home (unless of course I have to take care of a thousand things in town before that). In the moment I reach home, I again feel better and more energetic and throw myself over all kinds of personal projects. Then it’s time to make dinner and before you know it’s evening – the best time of the day. It is at this time of the day that I turn into the most energetic and happy, except in really bad cases, person ever. I’m like a tornado. It is at this glorious time of the day that the best ideas come to me. And of course also at the time when I’ve just turned off my computer and gotten ready to hit the sack, but this is just a minor unimportant detail. But at night time the sack suddenly doesn’t seem so warm and fantastic as twelve hours earlier. But you know that you have to face it and go to bed eventually (and not too late either) in order to avoid the same well-known horror scenario the next morning cause Julia you simply can’t walk into the office half an hour late for the 17th time.
In this way, I spend two hours each night preparing myself to go to bed only to spend two hours the next morning to prepare myself to get up. I conclude hereby that I am a B-person with a enormous B. I live in the dark and shun the light like a blood thirsty vampire. The mornings are just not for me.. I am not made for this time of the day. To quote my friend:
“At 7’o’clock in the morning I simply hate my whole existence”.