Waking up to me, often feels like entering the seventh circle of hell. I feel like I’ve woken up during the apocalypse or in a Samuel Beckett novel. My brain a jumble, my face mashed into the pillow like a pie that’s fallen off a window ledge. Alongside all the horrific human experiences that we are routinely subjected to and must endure, visits to the dentist or appraisal meetings, waking up is one of the most doggedly determined – you have to deal with this particular beast every morning, without fail, for the rest of your life. Sometimes when I consider this, I die a little inside.
Now there is an unusual breed of people that I like to refer to as ‘day walkers’. These people thrive on the dawning of a new day and flutter out of bed like feathers, whilst you gradually pop up like a depressed slab of ‘I can’t believe it’s not butter’. See us ‘non-morning-people’ are like the reluctant ketchup you have to bang to get out of the bottle. I mistrust these folk, just as I mistrust their creepy cousin ‘the chronic smiler’ or the ‘cheer up, it might never happen’ brigade. They are direct descendents of the ‘Stepford Wife’. Sometimes these people say things like ‘the glass is always half full!’ even whilst holding an empty plastic cup…or ‘go for gold slugger’.
These people are also satanic, possibly sociopathic and generally mentally unwell. They spring up out of bed three hours early, make a banquet for breakfast, and go for a morning run and/or swim/sky-dive/generally do-gooder activity. In fact, in the wee hours of the morning before my snooze button goes off, these people have probably begun to uncover a cure for cancer and are shimmying nearer to the application of world peace. They are at work at the start of play with perfect hair, skin, teeth and worst of all, irritatingly perfect lunches that look as if they were prepared by pixies. As I said before, these people are emotionally damaged and should be afforded pity. The best solution when dealing with such people is to slowly attempt to suck their joy away, by infecting them vicariously with your misery. If all else fails, it may be necessary to punch them in the face.
Even if I woke up to the melodic refrain of tropical birds and the gentle lashings of the water sucking up to golden sand, instead of bucketing rain and a dingy, hellish commute, I might still be tempted to draw the blinds and shut out the incessant interference of the outside world. They say the world is full of miracles, but unless it’s Christ’s resurrection or Tom Hardy at my door, the madness of my own brain will have to do.
Here’s how to tell if, like me, you just aren’t a morning person:
1) You have a love/hate relationship with the snooze button with feelings alternating between relief and deep, unrelenting hatred.
2) You invented the snooze button.
3) You set your alarm two hours earlier than necessary with the intention of a productive day well spent, but the short sighted euphoria of making the most of your time is quickly clouded by fresh doubts such as ‘I’d only end up watching Jeremy Kyle anyway’ to ‘the outside world isn’t ready for me yet’.
4) You prefer the world in your own head to the one outside.
5) You seriously entertain thoughts of homicide between the hours of 6-10 am. In extreme cases, these thoughts may continue throughout the day in sporadic bursts as you are reminded that you were robbed of sleep.
6) Slinging your feet over the side of the bed is akin to climbing Everest – unrealistic and unfeasible at 7.30.
7) When someone wakes you up ten minutes before your alarm or worst of all, interrupts a well timed snooze session, you consider arranging their assassination.
8) You don’t speak between the hours of 6 and 10 and when you do, you spout bitter, cynical, acidic bile of hate and Satan.
9) You hate all the things you love; your partner for snoring, the sun for shining, your favourite TV show for keeping you up, the song you selected as your snooze button becomes as infuriating as elevator ‘muzak’.
10) The most appropriate song to depict your mental state is ‘Smack my bitch up’ by prodigy or this. For those that can’t hear the link, it’s the kind of music you would expect in hells waiting room.
11) You wish you were a bear so that you could hibernate undisturbed.
12) You try to convince people that you are a bear with some well placed cat hair shavings glued securely to the relevant places.
13) You attempt to move into a cave in the woods to complete your bear metamorphosis, but the perils of orienteering, hunger and poachers act as a deterrent.
14) All things come second to sleep, including but not limited to, a hearty breakfast, making the train, brushed hair, matching socks and spending five more minutes with loved ones.
15) You are not only unsociable in the small hours, but also on the brink of violence, insanity and delusions, like our friend Milhouse and his ‘reverse vampire’ theory.
16) Sometimes you get up so late that you don’t really understand what ‘morning’ is.
If this is you, then you aren’t alone my friend. Don’t let the time Nazi’s stop you from having a lie in!