Most mornings, I wake up feeling relatively chipper, bright and cheery and ready to start the day.
I know. You hate me.
But it’s true — I’m much more of a morning person than an night person. Even when I was in college, when I was staying out late every night, I’d still manage pretty easily to wake up by 8 or 9:00. It was both a blessing and a curse, really … I mean, if you’re going to bed at 4 a.m., you really should sleep past 10.
But this morning. Oh this morning. I’ve been awake now for about two hours and I still can’t seem to shake off the sleepy. I’m on my second cup of coffee and it’s still fog city over here.
So what am I going to do? Write through it anyway.
Why? Because James, my online writing course teacher, will yell at me if I don’t.
(OK, not really. She’s yet to yell at anyone.)
So you’re stuck with the foggy, disjointed, rambling Ally this morning. I hope you’ll be OK with that. Right then. On with the real post.
As you probably know, it’s been a dreadful couple of winter days around here. We even hit a record low overnight last night, something like -9? NEGATIVE NINE DEGREES, people. That’s unfair. That’s not right. That’s…
Remember how I told you that I hate February in the midwest, and that in particular, I hate snow?
I don’t think I fully explained why. You see, my birthday is in February. And every year when I was a kid, my parents would let me invite all my friends to spend the night for a birthday sleepover. It’s what every kid wants for their birthday, right? To get all hopped up on cake and punch and run around like an idiot with her best friends.
But it never happened. Every year, EVERY YEAR, my birthday plans would get canceled because of an impending storm. There was always snow, or ice, or sleet, bearing down on the tri-state and bringing down the fun.
You see, I grew up in the middle of nowhere. Getting to my house was a little more difficult than normal on a good day, so when there was snow in the forecast, it was a no brainer. It simply was not safe to drive to my house, so my friends’ parents had to call it off.
So I got used to it. My family started making a running joke of it. It never surprised me when I had to be holed up in my house on my birthday. In college it was a little better, because I had roommates and I was walking distance from nearly all my friends, so the annual snowstorm lost its edge. When I moved back home and then later into my own apartment, though, the distance was greater and the curse resumed.
But this year, this year was different! On my birthday weekend, it was sunny and almost 50°! We met up with my family, went bowling, had fun … I couldn’t believe it — the curse had been broken!
Then last Friday, I found out that my friends were planning to come visit. A belated birthday surprise, of sorts.
And guess when it started snowing.
Seriously? SERIOUSLY?! The birthday curse strikes again, even three weeks after my actual birthday.
Man I hate February.
But hey, look at that — my brain is finally starting to wake up.