For the past thirty years, I had to rise before the sun. Now, it gets harder and harder to crawl out of those comfy blankets. Maybe I’m becoming a slacker.
This morning was eventful at our house. Our oldest dog, Elmo, who is creeping to the finish line as only he could, has been sick and has to be watched like a hawk, lest he get up and pee on something. My wife, who apparently has hearing that rivals a bat, got up with a start twice upon hearing him creeping looking (well, he’s mostly blind, so bumping) for a spot to let loose.
The scrambling woke me up, my reactions are way too slow to help out. Plus, I’ve been finding my bed to be a comfortable place these days.
When I first became “sans job” (Pronouncing things in French makes them seem exotic, no?), I would pop up and share the morning with my wife and youngest daughter as they prepared for work and school. The thing is, I pop up wide awake and talking, which I quickly found out is not something they want at 6:35am. So I started staying in bed.
Gradually, my wake up time would begin getting later and later, until I’m now at the point where I won’t get up until the younger dog wakes me up to go out.
I have a morning schedule to keep, which includes writing this blog, and sending out resumes, and trying to arrange interviews, but I’m beginning to realize those things aren’t helped by getting up earlier.
So why get up?
Come on, give me a good reason.