I've always been a morning person. Rising at dawn, to peace, quiet, calm, clarity, to a day still full of promise. The first and best cup of coffee, black and bitter and strong, more ritual than craving. The sun, still low, still soft. Sit and think time. Love it. Always have.
For a while, though, mornings lost their charm. Days became harder to leap into, to take head on, and my bed far too warm and inviting and comforting to leave. I became more of a night owl, staying up all hours, either dicking around online or enjoying the mystery that is late night tv on basic cable, sleeping later and later. I met the days when they were already well underway. Dawn was something I'd see from the backside, through eyes tired and red.
But I've decided to take my mornings back. I miss them. Want them. Long for them like I haven't for some time. Recently unfettered, unbound (not referring to the *good* kind of bondage), freed from the private shackles (again, not the good kind) that made the days harder to stomach, I am diurnal once more. Or that's the intention, anyway.
Of course, that's easier said than done. My body got used to the new schedule. Jetlagged by life (lifelagged?). The next couple of days will suck. I am going to be irritable and cranky and a real prick. Just for a couple days. After that, I'll just be a real prick. Like always.
