Try as I might, I simply can't sleep in.
Every morning my body clock rings
around 5 a.m. Apparently this timing
designates me as a "morning person".
However the fact is that I'm not fully
functional until at least several hours
post arising. Like most men I live a life
of ritual. My mornings are spent writing
this blog, reading other's blogs, dealing
with my voluminous e-mail, and finally
catching up via Facebook and Linkedin.
What's amazing is that somehow I do
all of this in a complete and utter haze.
Sad as it may be, I simply am not fully
functional before I've had several cups
of java. This magical elixir is one of
the few things in my life I truly rely
on. Every day begins in the same way.
I stagger to my computer to power up.
Next I feel my way into the kitchen and
put on the kettle. then grind the beans,
load up the french press, and wait until
the whistle blows. After I add water it
steeps for five minutes. Then finally,
I fill my cup, sip the brew, and start
anew. Wake up and smell the coffee!
Coffee used to be easy. Today
I wonder at of those complex
formulae folks ramble off at
Starbucks. I long for those days
when you ordered black, regular
(cream & sugar), or light (cream
only). Upon moving to Chicago
I realized said terminology was
uniquely New York. Thus I got
a blank stare when ordering it
"light" as those pouring it out
thought I meant diet. When all
I craved was coffee with cream!
It's been said that "once you go black
you never go back." Well in reality,
I must concur. For the first half of my
adult life I took my coffee with cream.
Then one day I decided to drink it
black. Since then I've fully embraced
sipping my java in it's purest form.
Let me be clear, I ADORE cream.
Much like butter I use it liberally and
always have a quart in the fridge. Yet
my change in orientation was not due
to lactose intolerance. Rather I simply
decided to go over to the dark side...
It baffles me that some people seem
to be able to function without a hot
cup of coffee. I've known my share
of Coke, Pepsi, and Tab-aholics. For
them the pop of a can top opening is
equally as exciting as the bubble of
a percolator. My dad was addicted
to his morning pot of White Rose tea
- no fancy stuff for him. We all have
our foibles and routines. Explanation
as to why our mornings are truly all
about each of us getting into the day's
groove. The blind leading the blind...
Fortunately I'm a sound sleeper.
At least I thought so until I was
told I snore. This noisy result of
sleep apnea, it apparently leads
to sleep deprivation. So while
I may be in bed for eight hours,
the benefits of my snooze may
be less. Is that the reason that
I wander the house every a.m.
like a sleep walker? Somehow
I've been able to avoid the sleep
clinic. Proof that my better half
is either very patient or deaf!
The older one gets, the harder it is to
start each day. Rather than the dawn
of opportunity, it's feels like a repeat
performance. We should hop out of
bed and run several miles. But given
my track record, that's never going to
happen! Late in life my Mother had
a gal named Suzy who helped her get
started every sunup. Is that what this
old man needs? One thing is certain,
unless my sunrise serenader is George
Clooney nobody will get a rise out of
me before nine o'clock in the morning!
