That’s what they say, anyways. If you ask me, I’m more inclined to think that it’s also the early worm that gets eaten, but no, you never ask me, do you? You should, really.
No no, it’s few minutes past 6AM, and I’ve been up for about 20 minutes now. And in my desperate attempt to stay awake I’ve re-loaned few books from the school library (conveniently done online, of course!), I’ve paid my cell phone bill, replied to Chimmy, checked the BCF and my email, caught up on Grant Miller Media (loved the piece on same-sex marriages being legalised in Sweden, btw!)…
Second cup of coffee on the way.
I hate mornings, everyone knows that. They also know that I’m not really a people-person before I’ve had my caffeine fix. And I hate getting up. The actual process of getting up, out of the bed, annoys me to no end. It’s so comfortable there, warm and soft and cocooned. The outside world is cold and harsh and one has to do things there. I much prefer staying under my blanket, thank you!
BF has perfected the “wake up ii”-routine. To see the brilliancy of his method, let me start by explaining how my early morning wake-ups usually go.
About 30 minutes before I actually have to get up, the first alarm sounds off. The snooze button has an 8-minute wait. There’s also one other alarm clock set to go off around that period (well, approximately, as it’s a bit of a gamble, you never know exactly when it goes. It doesn’t really go off when you set it to. But it’s cute!). In addition to that, there’s several reminders on my phone with varying intervals. The phone, together with the Random Clock are kept on a self away from my bed, so that I need to get off the bed to turn them off.
Eventually I do get up, after hitting the snooze for half and hour or so. I stumble, shivering (aren’t you always cold when you get up? why is that??) into the kitchen, where, if I’ve been smart, I have coffee ready, as my maker has a timer. Alternatively I wait, hand on coffee pot handle, for my first cup. After I get my first cup of steaming hot coffee, I get on the computer and pretend to do something (like, you know, play Spider Solitaire and call it ‘being productive’) until the caffeine has woken up my brain enough for me to go get dressed.
Now, the BF-way of doing this: When the alarm goes off, he gets up and goes make coffee, leaving me to bed. I usually don’t even notice this. He brings me a cup of coffee, only because he’s evil he puts it on a shelf so close that I can smell it, yet too far to reach without getting out of the bed. After I’ve had the first cup in bed, I’m more fit to make it to the kitchen where he’s making toast and reading the online papers and just being his regular ray of frigging sunshine. The plan is brilliant. It works. It’s also very very evil.
My goddaughter and her Teddy Bear had my favourite method by far, though. They sneaked up to me, shouted out “there’s coffee!”, the Teddy (yes, the Teddy, don’t ask) thrust a bagel in my face: “and bagels!” What can I say, I’m a sucker for bagels. Of course, “there’s coffee. And bagels!” became our new catch phrase after that. *laughs*
I don’t have any bagels.
