This getting up early thing is getting old. Every day, starting at about 3:00 a.m., I wake up, squint at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock, tell myself it's too early and try to go back to sleep, doze for a little while, then check the clock again. Repeat every 10 minutes until 4:00, then give up and get moving. Slowly. Verrryyy sllloowwwlly
I'm not now, nor have I ever been a morning person. Here are a some of the clues that tell me that I'm up before I actually wake up:
I poured beer into my coffee. A mistake, but perhaps an unconscious indicator of attitude.
I garnished my son's baloney sandwich with chocolate syrup instead of mayonnaise. He was kind enough to point this out before I finished.
Instead of sprinkling salt on the eggs, I methodically removed the cap from the salt shaker and poured all the salt in, then stood there staring at the pile of salt in the bowl, wondering why I did that.
This one has happened multiple times: I made the coffee without putting coffee in. My husband gently brought this to my attention. Sheesh! Next thing you know, he'll want food in his dinner.
There are other examples; new ones every day, in fact. Maybe all this PD stuff is actually lack of sleep.
Well, I guess I'd better go make the coffee. I think I'll put coffee in it this time.