Saturday, February 5, 2011


Gentle Readers,

I hate morning.

Don't talk to me of the beauty of sunrise and the glory of God's re-creation of the new day. I will come right back at ya with the beauty of my warm Martha Stewart comforter (purchased on clearance for a great price) and the glory of cuddly dogs pressed against my broken back.

Why in the name of all that is good and holy does anyone want to get out of bed in the morning? Daytime is for work and documents and putting up with people who are as grouchy about leaving their beds as they should be. By day, people drink too much coffee and pick arguments with their coworkers; by night, they share a cup of cocoa with marshmallows and whisper sweet stories of loved ones. Nighttime is for peace and quiet: writing in silence, gently snoring dogs, and perhaps best of all, no wearing of clothes. Instead, there are soft cozy jammies (my favorites are white with black paw prints) accompanied by chocolate chip cookies and milk, and then the removal of the jammies for reading in bed. Oy vey, the sheets are so soft against my bare-assed nekkedness.

I'm a night owl honey. I can accomplish 1,000 times more between 7 p.m. and 10 p.m. than I can between 7 a.m. and noon. The telephone seldom rings at night with that jangling that curses the day. Of course, it helps that I turn the phone off. I can relax at night and think clearly. Daytime simply does not have that feeling of softening and easing off that allows us to do our best work unencumbered and set aside our cares.

I hate the night only when I must get up in the morning. Then I cannot sleep no matter how tired I be. Each minute becomes an hour as I dread the morrow.

Perhaps some day I will find a job that requires me to rise with the sun. I will take that job and do my best, but I will be a changed person, a more regimented person -- one who makes demands of people, definitely crabbier. I will no longer be me.

My advice to you, Gentle Readers: Stay in bed unless, oh God forbid, you are required by the strange rules of society to go to work early in the morning or send your poor suffering children out to school. School is definitely conducted during the wrong hours. Everybody knows that teenagers in particular don't function well in the morning. They should go to school in the afternoon -- perhaps noon to 6 -- and then have a nice dinner followed by extra-curricular activities and homework and bed at the time the natural rhythms of a teenager dictate, maybe midnight. They would get so much more done and be so much less grouchy and teenagery. Why, every parent would go around saying, My teenagers used to drive me crazy and now they're my best friends.

If you really like getting up early, then be my guest. It's all yours. But when you put your tootsies on the icy cold floor and shiver as you wait for the shower to warm up, please imagine your Lola, sleeping in comfort on her pillow-top mattress and surrounded by the dogs who love her, farting quietly while Lola is blissfully unaware of the slight stench but also blissfully, sleepily aware of the snoring that is so much like the gentle purr of the motor of a happy cat.

Infinities of love,


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