When I was younger, I used to drive my dad up the wall by not packing by school bag the night before. Every day it would result in a last-minute panic. Suddenly everything I needed for the day would be missing, and everyone would be to blame except me. “WHERE’S IS MY TRICOLORE TEXT BOOK???”; *bang bang bang* I would hammer through the house. Finally, vital item located, we would recreate a scene worthy of James Bond as my mum tried to get my dad to the station on time for his train to work.
Mornings on a school day have never been relaxing, and the idea of waking up early to ensure I am prepared is no more feasible now than it was when I was 14. Plus, there are SO many more ways I can fuck up now. Keys, phones, and my work door pass all routinely go missing. The cat seems to want to be fed every morning, and I am in charge of my own laundry. On top of this, I have all the logistics associated with running and cycling to work to take into consideration.
I hope you’re reading this Dad; things have only gotten worse.
Often the alarm goes off at 5.45am, so Matthew can go to the gym. To ensure I don’t inadvertently have enough time to get ready, I go back to sleep and get up at n-10 minutes (where n = the amount of time I need to get ready).
I love my lazy weekend mornings, and will always set my alarm early to give me time to enjoy breakfast and
read a bit watch crap on TV before I have to go for my run/get ready/go out. Somehow during the week though, I take the opposite approach. But this is normal, right?
A friend of mine swears by her morning routine, which includes slowly eating a huge bowl of cereal whilst listening to the radio, and then reading her New Scientist magazine with a cup of tea. (I am sure she actually watches GMTV whilst shakily drinking a coffee like the rest of us).
So yesterday morning, alarm goes off at 5.45am and….I actually got up. I showered, fed the cat, and then took my breakfast and a coffee back to bed to watch Frasier.
Rather than pounding my hair with the hairdryer whilst sweating profusely (one of life’s greatest paradoxes), I let it dry naturally (before straightening the shit out of it at work). There was no rushing or panicking; in fact, I might not have even said a swear word all morning. It felt like a weekend morning. I actually rather enjoyed it.
I’ll make up for it by being extra chaotic tomorrow.