I have to sleep with my alarm (which is my phone) in another room. If I sleep in the same room as my alarm, I'll turn it off in my sleep. So, it's in another room. That way, I have to get out of bed and walk into the living room to turn it off. (I won't lie, sometimes I'll still hit snooze and take it back to bed with me - and then turn it off instead of re-snoozing after ten minutes. ... I'm adorable.)
I have to plan what I'm going to wear the night before, or I will literally stand in the middle of my WALK-IN CLOSET and think "I have no clothes." For fifteen minutes. ... Or more.
Much like making wardrobe choices the night before, I have to pre-pack my lunch. If left to my own devices at 6:00 AM, I'm liable to walk out the door with a can of pineapple, a sleeve of saltine crackers and a Tootsie pop. ... That, my friends, is not a well-balanced meal.
And because three odd facts DO NOT a blog post make (and also because I'm too tired to take the time to actually write the whole stories... I tell you what, this two-week-old-cold-that-will-not-die is wearing me out), here are a couple little morning-time vignettes for your reading pleasure:
One fine morning when Jule, Weeze and I were living in the blue house, I started a fire in both the kitchen AND the bathroom. At the same time. Because I'm an overachiever. (Kitchen fire was a result of me trying to dry my sweater in the oven. - Turns out that acrylic yarn spontaneously combusts. - Bathroom fire was my curling iron melting through the plastic crates that we liked to pretend were furniture. In my defense, the bathroom fire never would have happened if the kitchen fire hadn't been taking up so much of my morning time.)
Once, when I was house-sitting for a co-worker, I woke up in the morning and saw a scratch on the headboard of the fancy bed I was sleeping in. I rolled out of bed, got down on all fours, and swiped my ring across the furniture to see if it really would scratch the wood. ... Sure thing. (I spent the rest of that weekend rubbing walnut oil into the headboard, trying to make my original scratch disappear.)
And it's not like that scratch-in-the-headboard sleepover was the most damage I ever did at DiAne's. ... Oh, no. There was the time the horses got out and I had to Hansel-and-Gretel the horses back into their pen by dropping an entire bale of hay all over the property. And the time HER DOG DIED on my watch. (It's astonishing that she ever had me back after that, really.)
Anyway... now that I've been laughing about my disasters whilst house-sitting, I'm coughing again. So, I'm going to stop typing and break the honey out. And maybe the NyQuil, too. ... At 7:30 on a Friday night. Wahoo! I'm such a party animal.