Earlier last week I joined the Writing 101 challenge on wordpress. I’m looking forward to getting back in to writing daily (finger’s crossed I can actually get it done daily). Today’s assignment, the first assignment, is Unlock the Mind. Writing for 20 minutes without going back and editing. THIS is a struggle. I LOVE to edit. But, a job is a job so here it goes…
I don’t know why morning’s don’t like me. I like them…sometimes. I sit up at night and fantasize about getting up early and all the things I’ll accomplish if I do. My life would be better if I just got up 20-30 minutes earlier and got busy. Get that work-out in. Make that healthy breakfast for the family! Start a load of laundry that much earlier! Or just simply sit outside in the wonderfully cool autumn air and sip that too hot cup of coffee. Pray. But when morning comes, she kinda kicks me. Or like an annoyingly loud relatives, yells in my ear, “I’m here! Let’s go!” and I only groan and cover my head with the pillow. It’s not that I don’t want to hang out with you Morning, it’s just that…must you be so loud? Must you be so…early? Or, if Morning isn’t loud, she comes in softly, a little too softly, with the buzzing of my phone. “Pst, Rachel…you gonna get up and have that cup’o joe? You mentioned something about joining me for a work-out?” But her whispers are only met with the push of my thumb on the snooze button. Hmm, maybe it’s I who does not like her after all? Or maybe after years of abuse she’s not gonna try so hard anymore to hang-out. I couldn’t blame her. I haven’t been that nice. Hell, in my teens I barely even acknowledged her existence. and even now I crankily push her out of the way until I get that cup of coffee. How many times have I said, “NO! Not yet! It can’t be morning yet?” Or complained to my son, “why must your school start so early?” or lied to myself, “I’ll get that work-out in this afternoon.” It’s too early! I didn’t get enough sleep! Why do those fucking birds have to chirp right outside my fucking window before the fucking sun is even fucking up!?!?!?! I should be ashamed. And yet on the mornings that I do actually just get up and get going and accomplish my wish list I am so thankful and happy and pleased all day long. Morning is only here to bless me, and I neglect her. I should be ashamed. Sorry, morning. Tomorrow, I’ll do better. I’ll hit snooze a little less. I groan a little quieter. I won’t punch my bed and curse you for being you. Though that means I’m gonna have to stop being so nice to night. But he’ll get over it, I’m sure.
(okay so I did edit a little, but just spelling mistakes!)
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