The further into the week it is, the harder getting up at 5 AM feels. You’d think that would be worst on Monday mornings, but oddly enough, it feels toughest on Thursdays. The problem isn’t so much the waking-up-at-5 part; I usually respond to my alarm–which is a fairly pleasant wind-chimey thing, nothing raucous–just as it goes off. It’s the getting-up-at-5 part, which has to happen in order to accomplish everything I need to do in order to leave the house and get to the office close to on time, allowing for an hour (more or less) on the road there. It’s the getting-up-at-5 part when, at this latitude in early August, there’s no daylight to speak of for at least another hour. It’s the getting-up-at-5 on Thursday morning when Saturday morning is just over the horizon, and when it comes, there will be two straight days of not getting up at 5. Granted, I may still wake up at 5 AM–but it’ll happen without the alarm, since there won’t be any need to get up at 5–and I’ll be able to ignore that it is 5 AM. And when you’re up at 5 AM five days a week, not getting out of bed before 7 feels like sheer self-indulgence.
Morning, in #JustOneParagraph
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