I don't think I've ever been a morning person. At least as far as I can remember.
When I was in school my dad would wake me up at 7:07AM every day. He likes to wake up at times with lots of "lucky numbers" in them in order to start the day off right. He would make me some hot tea and a toaster waffle and drive me to school, usually arriving before the lights were even on inside. When I finally started driving, I wonder if he missed me, half asleep, blasting My Chemical Romance and Nirvana at top volume as we pulled into the Christian school. Probably. He's even more sentimental than I am.
But now I'm on my own and mornings are even less enjoyable. It takes about sixteen alarms to get me conscious, when I finally wake up, it's always too cold for me to want to leave the covers. I throw on the nearest work-appropriate outfit, make myself hot tea and a toaster waffle, and, if I have time, sit on the couch with my rats.
Last night was the first night in a while where I actually slept in my bed. For the past week or so the Queen mattress was far too big and far too lonely for me to sleep in. Thankfully, my couch is pretty comfortable. But, this morning, I felt pretty good. Stretched out in the middle of the bed. My rats looking at me from the cage with their little faces saying, "Is it really lights-on already?"
I still wonder how well I'd fare with a roommate. After some previous bad experiences I've really needed some space for myself to figure out how exactly I want to live. But, maybe someone to say hi to in the morning while I struggle to function wouldn't be too bad. Someone else shuffling around trying to get out the door.
Living alone shouldn't have to be lonely.
Comentarios