I am a morning person—a fact that really annoys my wife. Actually, she would likely contend that I’m not so much a morning person as I am just really annoying in the morning. And that’s not a completely unfair assessment.In the morning, I like to talk. And if I don’t have anyone to talk to, I talk to myself or just create noise. Even my dog seems to find this annoying. I can’t help it, though. I wake up ready to take on the world. And I believe that I’m not just annoying. I genuinely think that in the morning I am amiable, productive, thoughtful, optimistic, and generally happy. The remainder of the day (from 11am on) is more a war of attrition between my two predominate dispositions—misanthropic and bewildered. I’ve gradually come to terms with this duality and have learned that Scotch and gin can help to moderate the latter portions of the day.
But now, in the midst of this soul-sucking season termed winter, I have lost this morning zeal. I’ve written several times describing my distaste for the wasteland that is the western Missouri winter. I’ve even joked about shoving the barrel of a shotgun in my mouth (an old, but good, joke). But now it’s getting serious.
For the majority of the year I try to rise from my slumber by 5am. But for the past several months I’ve been hitting the snooze button with increasing frequency. And today I may have hit bottom. I set my alarm for 5:15, hoping to awaken early enough to enjoy some coffee, read the paper, shave, shower, and be out the door by 6:40am. However, I didn’t roll out of bed until 6:45. If you are counting at home, that is 9 strikes of the snooze button—a personal record. The first snooze I thought: “More sleep.” The second: “I can shave tomorrow.” Then: “What’s the rush?” Then: “What’s the point?” And then several where I just kind of whimpered. And then finally: “Maybe cereal will make me happy.” It didn’t.
So what now? How do I survive until spring? Well, I just discovered a 20-year-old jar of rubber cement in the drawer of my desk, and I think I’m going to smell it for awhile. And if I’m lucky, I’ll forget that I live in Missouri and that there are 41 days left in winter. Sigh.
"Now is the winter of my discontent/ Made glorious summer by this aged bottle of Elmer's."
2 comments:
Mr. Snakin --
I will go to my grave declaring that there is no winter more depressing than a Kansas City winter. In fact, it was that four-month dreariness, devoid of any action but BV North-St. Thomas Aquinas girls basketball throwdowns, that eventually drove me from your lovely little 'burgh and into the wonderful arms of book authorship, bloviating columnizing and a slightly-less depressing winter streak in Chicago (ie: snow beats ice, we also have the Bulls and playoff football.)
I remember the Winter of '03-'04 was particularly bad. The Plaza Lights had just been turned off and the only thing to look forward to was the Chiefs' NFL draft part in April. It was then that I picked up The Thrills' "So Much for The City," a perfect 10 (or so) song tribute to sunny San Diego. Lord knows, it took every ounce not to say fuck it, pack up the 'Stanger and head west.
Best of luck.
Thank you for the consolation, Duk. Things are indeed bleak, though I've decided that maybe it's best to just take things day by day. Today, for example, I am attempting to accomplish absolutely no work-related work. I'm hoping that by ignoring my miserable job I will somehow avoid my miserable mood. So far so good. Today I have written a blog post, researched the US patent on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (to be posted later this afternoon), watched a documentary, slept through a teleconference, and took a two and a half hour lunch. This afternoon promises to be especially unproductive, as I plan on shopping at Target and sitting at Starbucks. If there is time, I might bundle up and go for a nature wallk. I must say, this schedule has somewhat lightened my mood.
Post a Comment