Friday Morning 5:00 A.M.

  Early morning is not my gig, but once again, here I am, at 5:00 a.m. sitting in the early November dark, eating the same bowl of Cheerios I have been consuming for the past seventeen years. Well, not the same bowl exactly, but the same breakfast. Sometimes I change it up to oatmeal, but that requires cogent thought, boiling water, and measurements which is a lot to accomplish so early in the day.

  I am not a morning person by nature. In younger years it was not uncommon for me to stay out late -really late, three or four a.m. late, then sleep until noon, go to work, and repeat. Then I had children.  The commercial is right, a baby changes everything. Children for the most part, don't dig the party late, sleep late scene. They wake up, want to eat, need diapers changed, and so on whenever they choose.  Since my husband was not a food source, it fell on me to get up with the babies in the middle of the night and as they grew the pattern continued. 

  By the time they were old enough to roll out of bed by themselves, get down the stairs, and punch the buttons on the microwave, it became apparent that turning a four-year-old and a two year old with minimal cooking skills loose in the house could present a problem. A muffin nuked for thirty minutes on high in a microwave is too long. Muffin Flambé is not a thing.  We lived in the country at the time. My bet was that it would take the house about five minutes to burn to the ground. The closest volunteer fire department was seven minutes away.  It seemed only prudent that someone had better get up to handle the fire control duties.

  Over the course of twenty years the early morning habit has become ingrained.  Five-thirty rolls around and I wake up. It doesn't matter what time I went to bed the night before, my DNA has been restructured to accept an early up-and-at-'em time. However, it wouldn't be safe to conclude that just because I come downstairs, hit the button on the coffeemaker, and turn on the t.v. to the morning news that I am anywhere near approaching a cognizant state.

  I have been known to do some weird things first thing in the morning, though I would have to be convinced that particularly this time of year, when it is still black as pitch outside, that 5:30 is really morning.  Yesterday I found a carton of milk in the pantry. I'm not exactly sure when I missed the fridge, but it had been a day or two. I tossed it without opening the cap.  I've been known to pour coffee on my cereal, which ruins a perfectly good bowl of oatmeal, to quote the current occupant, "Believe me."

  Fortunately, now that I am alone in the house I no longer have to be responsive. No one is asking me if she should wear these earrings or those to school today. "What happened to my_____," fill in the blank is no longer shouted at me from an upstairs bedroom. That is a step in the right direction. Conversing with someone at that time of day, even the basics, is a skill I no longer possess, much less actually answering a question with an answer someone might find intelligible.

  With my non morning- person status in mind I always schedule uncomfortable medical and dental procedures for the first appointment of the day. With luck, I won't even remember they happened. My recent eye surgery was an exception. I was scheduled first thing, but with all the preparation, attaching of tubes, IV's and such, it was mid-morning before the show got on the road. I was wide awake and not particularly appreciative of the goal the medical professionals were trying to achieve by then. 

  And don't get me started on perky receptionists. Early morning chit-chat sets my teeth on edge.

  To cap the whole thing off, I just remembered the clocks all go backwards tonight. Last spring when they hopped ahead an hour I went the entire day showing up at the wrong time. When I was younger daylight savings didn't make much of a difference to me. These days I am totally messed up for weeks. Who thought up this cocamamie idea anyway? There are still only 24 hours in a day, no matter how you order them. The whole concept is needlessly confusing.

  The only good thing about the clock shifting backwards tonight is that 1) my smoke alarm batteries will get changed, unless I forget, and 2) I won't have to walk my dogs in the dark.  

  And speaking of walking around in the dark-would you other people who stumble around outside before the sun comes up please wear reflective material, light colored jackets, or carry a flashlight at least?  I tripped over a neighbor the other morning who I never saw coming, just about knocked her down. She wasn't pleased I can tell you, which I found to be highly annoying since I was the one with the headlamp, blinking dog collars, and leashes with multi-colored LED lights. What did you mean by yelling at me lady? I looked like a blessed Christmas tree coming down the road. 

 She better be careful. Next time we meet I might be driving a dump truck.

Photo credit: Lori Morris