The ringtone on my iphone that I have set for my alarm is an optimistic ringing of church bells. Kind of sounds like someone might be getting married in a movie from sixty years ago. Kind of obnoxious. When I hear it in the mornings, it causes a rush of adrenaline to the pit of my stomach that almost makes me sick.

Then I hit the “snooze” button. Then there are a few options:

Either I have to go pee, because I’m so scared of the bells that I suddenly have to pee. But it is so cold outside of my warm cocoon of a bed that I won’t get up to pee, I just shiver in bed, cross my legs and try to imagine the pee away.

Or I don’t have to pee, but now I’m wide awake and panicking about maybe the snooze button won’t go off this time, and I’ll be late for work, so I don’t even enjoy the snooze feature of the snooze.

Or I don’t have to pee, I totally fall back asleep, and in the nine minutes I have to snooze, I have the WACKIEST dreams ever. But as much as you want to tell people about your dreams, trust me, no one really cares, unless your dreams somehow feature the person you are talking to. Generally, when you start talking about your dreams, people just tune out and think of the latest weird dream they have had, and then wait until you are done talking, so that they can talk about themselves and their weird dreams. This is a huge disease in junior high.

Or I get up because I REALLY have to pee, but my roommate is in the bathroom, and I cant get in, so I must do the pee dance outside the door, trying not to be rude about it, but trying to make just enough noise so that she knows how serious the pee situation is, and she hopefully hurries up.

Or I spend the next nine minutes of “snooze” doing mental math figuring out what about my outfit, hair, and makeup plan I could alter so that I could possibly hit snooze one more time, but still make it to school on time. Also, now that it is BUTT cold in the mornings, I sometimes peek out the blinds and think about how cold it might be, dividing Fahrenheit by Celsius on the Richter scale (just kidding) and factor in how long it will take me to defrost the ice off of my car so that it is safe to drive it to work.

I don’t think I have ever just popped out of my bed and said “hey world! I am so ready to take on the day! Alright! Lets get dressed and make a difference!” I’m just not that kind of girl. My body was made for comfort, not for speed.

At some point I get up, stumble to the bathroom, grunt at my roommate, pee while she’s standing right there, already doing her hair and makeup. Then I stumble to the kitchen and pour coffee. Then i go back to my room, lean against my bed, drink coffee, feel it go down down down into my belly, then I think about the way that society has trapped women into thinking that they need to do their hair and makeup in order to look decent and respectable and “get a man” as my great grandma tells me, and I get all riled up that I settled for a job that won’t let me wear sweatpants to school. then i grumble grumble grumble like an old mole.

Then I get over myself and decide to be thankful for a job that has a rocking vacation schedule and gives me a built-in audience for all my horrible jokes, and decide to be thankful that I don’t have to share my twin bed and closet-sized room with a husband or any children that I would need to be responsible for. Because I am just not ready for that. I’m thankful to be 26, and still trying to make my way in this world, and not worried about messing up every now and then. And I get dressed, get out the door, and listen to music I’m embarrassed to admit I like. (Ke$sha, I hate you, but shoot, you get me going in the mornings.)

Its 11pm. I barely made my “post a day” for today. I had an awesome roomie night tonight, complete with my penguin onesies pajamas, appys, wine, pizza, Step Up 3, and Gossip Girl dvds. Much needed. But time to go to bed…so I can wake up to hit snooze.

And with a song to take me out….Miss Dolly Parton really says it best:

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