Why I’m Not a Morning Person

I’ve never been much of a morning person.

My 5-year-old grumpy face. I think I still have it.

In fact, my rise and shine factor is lack luster at best. I have a coworker who once told me that I should be banned from mornings all together, and I kind of agree with him.

When I was little, mornings at Gam’s house always began with me grumbling out of bed with frumped lips and arms crossed tight over flannel pj’s or old t-shirts (depending on the season) and plopping down at the kitchen table across from Gam.

She wouldn’t say anything. Just look up from her coffee cup and plainly state, “I won’t talk to you if you don’t talk to me.”

I’d sit there for a good long while, staring at the texture in the plastic kitchen tablecloth until smiles would crack and I’d make my way to the fridge for OJ and cereal.

“Boy, were you grumpy,” she reminded me last time I came to visit. “You’re getting better though.”

I sure hope so.

It’s not so bad. Besides. There are no big frogs to catch till the wee hours and good movies don’t come on till after 11. Plus, being a non-early-riser means people are a lot more tolerant of round-the-clock coffee cups affixed like an extra appendage.

Everyone needs one of those.

Either way, please don’t take it personally if I’m a little out of sorts before 10 a.m.

I won’t talk to you if you don’t talk to me.


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