Morning has broken
What do you think about when you wake up? I like reflecting on my first thing in the morning thoughts. Sometimes I laugh at myself immediately after, sometimes I have to use my extra supply of motivation and sometimes that first thought is enough to have me bouncing out of bed and into the kitchen for cereal, a strawberry or two and a smile.
Today, my morning thought was, “Why is my hair still wet?” I wondered this because, with the 40-degree Celsius weather plaguing my city and the miniscule windows of my apartment, I went to bed the night before with soaking wet hair to combat my rising body temperature, as well as the bedroom’s. But surely, it must be dry eight hours later. Alas, my hair was wet from sweat. Indeed, my efforts to dampen my surroundings, aim the fan at my sleeping self on level 4 and slumber with only a thin sheet were not enough. My room, my apartment, and the entire top floor were in an oven. But, I laughed at myself because I think it’s funny that my scalp became that sweaty. It is kind of a record, I think.
Then, of course, there are the days where waking up feels like the worst thing ever. “Ughhghg!” (Or some other unintelligible sound-thought), why is it morning??? I need sleeepp… But then I realize I have to go to work if I want to make the money. So I make myself get up, convince my grumpy self I’ll feel better about waking up once I’m fed and dressed, and drag my feet to the kitchen. Those are the days I am more likely to stub a toe on the doorstop or sleepily walk into a wall, bruising my hip. Because, as we all know, bad things usually only happen when we least want them to.
I especially enjoy the mornings when I wake up and immediately realize, “Oooooh! I get to see the boyfriend today!!” With our mis-matched work schedules and our unending passion to be sarcastically clever and in love with each other, the days apart are difficult. That kind of first though makes me smile as I brush my teeth, wash my face and dance to my music as I prepare and eat my cereal, skim mill, berries and OJ.
Either way, I usually feel happy as I walk to work because by then, I am always dressed, always fed and always listening to music I pick out on my iPod. I love walking to work no matter what mood I’m in, so it evens out. The market is starting to wake up, and while there is evidence of last night‘s bar chaos strewn about the streets and sidewalks, there is also the essence of “new”: a new day, a new breeze and a new guy cleaning the store window. (At least, it always seems to be a new guy).