It seems like my life is largely spent working. I don't just mean my occupation, either. Most weekends I can be found doing some form of DIY, or household chores, or worse still - SHOPPING. It is all Hell. I don't consider any of these activities to be exciting, and more often than not when I think about the prospect of my required attendance or participation I release an internal sigh of desperation.
The worst bit is the morning. I am not a morning person, which is aptly named as all I do is mourn the loss of the slumber from which I have been unfairly torn. Generally my mornings start with an almost impossible task of removing myself from my bed - infintiely more difficult in winter when the air temperature outside my duvet-cocoon has plummetted into what feels like negative numbers. Once I have finally accomplished that, I somehow manage to shuffle through the preperations for the day - most of my body is functioning on autopilot as my brain is still in bed enjoying a lay-in.
Curiously, it is about an hour after rising that the grey matter sparks into life - while I am driving to work. It is a common occurence for me to suddenly think Did I remember to bring my work pass? and more spookily I find that I did, but I have no recolection of conciously picking it up. Worse still, I struggle to recall the beginning of my journey - so my mind is quite content in letting the rest of me control an automobile before it decides to wake up.
Coffee is the obvious answer, and in previous years it has been an instant injection of alertness for the mush in my bonce, but sadly it seems to have built up a resistance to caffienne so the morning cuppa doesn't start working until my brain wants it to. Quite cruel really, that I am at the mercy of my own mind. Waking up is just not something that I can do quickly, and I pity anyone who prematurely jolts me into the hostility of an early morning - I am not a pleasure to be with or to look at.
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