I hate cliché as much as the next writerly type. However, this morning I’m forced to slack up of that front and admit that I woke up on the wrong side of the proverbial bed—the grumpy side of my usually perfect Serta.
I’m a morning person, for the most part. I tend to wake up perky—a double-fisted drinker. Hot tea in one hand, Coke Zero in the other, I drink a double dose of sun rise and blue sky.
Breakfast is my favorite. I especially like sweet, morning meals—pancakes, French toast, waffles. There’s even something to be said for un-iced strawberry Poptarts, from time to time.
I’m most productive in the mornings, as well. I like to write then and begin or end art projects before the sun rises. Huddling in the half-light of predawn, I draw or scribble in notebooks–the smell of paperpencilpen pulling inspiration out of me.
This morning, however, things are otherwise. I’m turned around and upside-down. I’m pouty-lipped and furrowed brow, frowning my way to a “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day,” if I don’t watch it. (No, I will NOT be moving to Australia.)*
I’m borderline miserable, but for no apparent reason. I’m pissy, pure and simple. My neck is soar. My head aches. My mood is in the gutter.
So, forgive this piss-poor, half-assed post (and wish poor Sara well). It seems I’ve woken on the wrong side of the blog, as well.
Have you ever opened your eyes on the Sealy’s wrong side? Are you a morning or a nighttime person?
Please, for the love of blog gods, make your perky opinions know in the comments below.
I’m going back to bed————————–
(*If you have never read Judith Viorst’s children’s book “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day,” I recommend it. By the way, I did go back to bed and woke up feeling better. Never fear!)