Friday morning I dragged my sleepy head out of bed. I had made a promise to bake a cake for a friend, and I hate to break promises. I also hate to get out of bed. How I envy those who wake with a twinkle in their eye and leap out of bed to embrace the day.
Look at what I'm missing out on! What a sunrise to behold, and at 7am it's really not that early. Such a burst of brilliance in all directions, I didn't know which way to look. Most days I cling to the doona, savouring the warmth and nesty feeling. I'm especially bad in winter, like a hibernating bear, bleary eyed and unmoveable.
I've never been a morning person, always savouring the sleep in. My mum would come into my room and vacuum around me as a teenager, and still I would not lift my head. I love breakfast in bed with a newspaper, any excuse to linger longer!
A big part of my problem is I'm an owl. A creature of the night. Part marsupial. I love the wee hours of the morning before the sun rises, the dark, the silence, the quiet uninterrupted time when you can here yourself think. Whilst I was at Uni I always did my best writing at night.
I have got myself into
I think we are bringing up fellow sleepy heads. Our children are mostly hard to rouse from their slumber and will sleep in if they've been up too late. I wonder if its genetic or just what we model as parents. My parents certainly have none of my sleepy traits, by the time I'm up they've baked, been for walks, had breakfast, checked their emails and tidied the house. Oh for their energy.
Are you an early riser, waking with the birds or are you chirpier when the crickets begin their songs? Could you cope with observing a week of sunrises?