I have a serious problem with mornings. I don’t like them and they don’t like me. At least the getting out of bed part. I wish I could blame it on insomnia, but it is just as likely to be a hangover. And honestly, it’s my sloth-like disposition that is mostly to blame.
Put me in a cozy bed, all warm and snuggly under the covers, and why in the world would I ever want to leave? I’ve always got my smart phone plugged in right next to the bed, freshly charged, so I can log on to my favorite websites, read the latest news, sort through my email, check my facebook feed, play a little words with friends…believe me, I can waste hours doing absolutely nothing productive. And that’s if I don’t decide to doze off again.
I’ve often wondered what it would be like to wake up like those weird couples in the “sleep aide” commercials. If I pop a sedative before I turn in, will I really awake to birds chirping and the sun shining, emerging from a bed not even remotely disheveled, make up on, hair in place, and ready to greet the day with a moronic grin? I doubt it. As a matter of fact, when I used to dabble in prescription pills with names evoking blissful states of unconsciousness – Luneeesta, Ambieeen, Sonaaata – it was ten times harder for me to wake up. I usually didn’t fully emerge from my self-imposed fog until at least 10 am.
Also, I absolutely guarantee you the couples in those commercials didn’t have mad, hot sex during the night. Unless you think molesting a corpse qualifies. After her sleep crack is downed with a glass of Cabernet, the clock is ticking gentlemen. You have exactly 20 minutes from start to finish so better get ‘er done with as little fanfare as possible.
Don’t believe me? Notice how the couples in these commercials are always still completely clothed in their pajamas. No guys t-shirt sans undies on that lady. She’s wearing a sensible, full length nightgown, straight out of the latest JC Penny catalog, with cotton granny panties still completely intact underneath, no doubt. And no sleeping commando for him. He’s dressed in his Ricky Ricardo plaid PJs and my guess is that he still has his socks on to boot. And just look at the hair. These people aren’t sporting anything close to a freshly f*#@ed hairdo – they look like they just walked out of a salon. I promise you, sleeping is the only thing going down between those two sheets.
I’ve come to terms with my characteristic lack of morning perkiness. And like a true enabler, my fiancée actually takes the dog out and then brings me coffee in bed nearly every day. He wisely understands that it keeps the demons at bay, at least until the sun rises and awakens them once again tomorrow.