It occurred to me a couple of weeks ago that I’m a morning person.
I never really thought about it, but someone was bitching about morning people, and there was some discussion about what it means to be a morning person, and I realized that I am.
I always wake up early, on my own. Even on weekends, even when I stay up late. I have done so since I was a child. Even as a preteen and a teenager, I never slept in. Sleeping until 9am is a shock to me. I usually wake up around 6:30, and unless I’m sick, when I’m up, I’m up. I’m very industrious first thing. I do dishes and get ready for work and talk too much. I’m usually in a better mood in the morning than I am later in the day. I like day-drinking. Starting before lunch while on vacation is the best. Drinking at night sounds tiring now, because I’m also old.
It was a weird thing to realize. I always figured it was way cooler to be a night owl. Like look at me, in my leather jacket and sunglasses (the markers of a cool person in fiction), staying up all night. In fact, I start to run out of gas around 8:30pm, and even in my youth of going to bars etc., the idea of after-hours exhausted me and I did my level best to be in bed by 3am (and then woke up by 7 regardless).
So I am uncool. I wake up at 6:30 and do dishes and let my mile-a-minute brain do its thing. I write pointless blog posts. I start to decline mid-afternoon. I turn into a gremlin right after dinner. Hopefully, a cool gremlin.