I wish that just once I could wake up feeling like what I assume someone in their late 90's must feel like in the morning. So esactic to have actually woken up to another day that not even the fact that they are wearing Depends and have nothing scheduled for the day but watching The Price Is Right can bring them down.
It rarely seems to happen for me, though.
I stand in the bathroom, less than 2 minutes awake, staring at my face and wondering how I mastered the transformation from human to raccon in only 7 short hours. Vague memories of a midnight conversation float through my head.
"Sweetie, are you ok?"
"Huh?"
"You've been grinding your teeth pretty intensly."
"Oh."
I had been dreaming of painting and repainting a figure that I had finally finished earlier that night.
Now I've got the blow dryer aimed straight at my face, hoping that a little warmth might make me feel alive and happy to be so. The effect is reversed. I feel alot like a frozen dinner: the joyous idea of being revitalized replaced with the crushing disappointment of being swept past the oven and straight into a radioactive box, where it is taken from 30 to 90 degrees in a whooping 30 seconds. It is steaming, it is burning, and it smells like nothing that anyone would ever want to willingly eat. It is probably wondering why it ever wanted to be warm in the first place. Yes, I am that crusty, frozen, forgotten meal that was better off living its life in the back of your freezer.
I realize how ridiculous I sound. As if sleeping for an entire week would really be as glorious as it sounds. But it turns out that my brain is hardwired to believe it would rather be asleep than awake for approximately 60% of the day. Quality of sleep has nothing to do with it, just bury me 10 covers deep in the Sleep Number and I will be just fine.
Granted, I'll be fully awake in 30 minutes and all this will be a moot point. I'll go ahead and post it though, because something tells me it will ring true tomorrow morning.
