We Got Up Early

April 2, 2015, Purps, Coffee Talk, , 1

I realize that we are not actually up early. I realize that technically we’re up at the usual time and there are people who get up much earlier. I realize that as you read this at some later hour you’ll think I’m quite the baby for complaining about getting up in the morning. It’s funny, I used to think myself quite good at this. I’m good at the waking up part, at least. It’s the getting out of bed part that I’m not so good at.

We got up at 6:30 today. And by we, I mean my husband. It’s finally light enough out that he can go running in the morning without fear of on-coming traffic. So today was the day; his first day out and he managed to get up with only a 10 minute decrees to his alarm time. I’m impressed. If it were me I’d have set it back an half hour to ensure my snooze button routine wasn’t thrown off by the intention to get up. Maybe that’s why his way worked better.

This should not feel this hard. Clearly I’m out of practice. I used to be so good at getting up in the mornings… starting out at least, I guess. In hind sight, getting up always gets harder as time goes on for me. I remember starting a semester with an 8 am class and dragging myself out of bed at 6:30 to get ready to leave by 7:30 for my 20 minute commute. This always inevitably turned into getting up at 7 to be ready by 7:40. I’m not entirely sure how I got through the summer of opening the library, another 8 am job. It was my first summer working the library after two semesters with 8 am classes every other day. After that I managed to avoid 8 ams until poli sci, but you can’t escape opening the library. Once you know how they never let you give it up. I don’t like to brag, but I was also really good at filling the carafes. I had it down to half an hour of work before moving on to news papers. I could generally be done with both and check the printer paper before 9. I think I might miss the library.

Honestly, I never thought that I would inflict an 8 am job on myself. I knew it was possible that when I was out in the real world I might get a job where some person with a schedule would put me down to come in at 8, or ever earlier, but I never thought I’d do it to myself. You always hear about writers who are disciplined enough to get up at like 5 and write for a whole hour straight and are super productive and diligent and get published, but I never thought I’d be one of them. One to get up early and write, that is. I’m still not any of the other stuff, but I do get up earlier than I would like and I do write. Not always for an hour, but I get stuff out at least.

I think I feel more productive when I stay home and write. It may just be because I can get started earlier. It’s 7:43 and I’m nearly the end of my post already. I might even read it over to make sure there are no typos this time. I kind of hate reading over my own stuff, though. I think it follows the thinking of people who hate hearing themselves recorded. Can’t stand my own voice. If I’ve said something dumb, I don’t know to know about it, I want to be blissfully unaware of how stupid I sound. Anyway, maybe it’s the time, maybe it’s my comfy chair, maybe it’s the fact that I’m not concerned with other people looking at my computer or driving home or out or what other conversations are going on around me. I’m very easily distracted, comes with the ADD, but that’s a topic for a different day.

It’s hard to tell if I’m just making excuses not to go out, but honestly, I prefer writing in my chair, even if I do have to get up at 7am to do so. I don’t think I would be able to do it, though, without my husband. Seriously, he’s so good about getting me up, even though I whine like a baby most days and he has to take the covers away from me to get me out of bed. If not for him you’d be reading this in the afternoon, probably. So, if ever I become one of those super productive morning writers, it will be entirely his doing.

8am, college, early, getting up, library, morning, running, work, writing

‹ Adventures in One Act My Husband Made Me Run ›