I'm updating before work, because I'm dragging my feet. One of the reasons I've avoided the real world is that I hate going to work at 8 a.m. 9 a.m. would be much better, and 10 a.m. would be awesome like eating the last piece of cheesecake.
I'm a night owl. I get all my best ideas and best writing at around 1 a.m. For the past four years at college, I avoided taking an 8 a.m. class. I know that I'm getting exhausted because I'm hitting the snooze button a little bit more each day. Oh, and the fact that I'm having to trick myself to get out of bed. My clock is set 30 minutes fast.
We're heading up to the lake this weekend, and I'm absolutely ecstatic. There's only so many weekends of my mom that I can handle in one month. It's the whole "we're exactly alike and we don't like spending the weekend with a version of ourselves." Except that I'm a night owl and she's a morning person. The horror!!!
Oh, and that she wakes me up at 5 a.m. everyday on the weekend. I'm sure you're asking yourself, "But Elizabeth, why don't you just roll over and go back to sleep?" My answer to you, ye naive one, is that it's hard to sleep when someone flips on the light, pulls the covers off of you, grabs you by the ankles and yanks you out of bed all while screaming in your ear at the volume only dogs can hear.
All this so I'll have a cup of coffee and watch the squirrels. And then she gets perturbed when for the first two hours, I talk like a caveman. Grunts, snorts, snarls and beating on my chest for added emphasis. Everyone who knows me knows that you don't talk to me in the morning until I talk to you first, but apparently, after 22 years, Momma hasn't figure it out yet. Or she chooses to ignore it.
I'd feel much better if I had a cup of coffee in the morning. But here's a little secret. The coffee at work sucks. I've been spoiled, because my coffee pot is an old Bunn from a restaurant. Makes some damn fine coffee. One of these days, I'm coming up there armed with a good coffee pot and going to page everyone and say, "Gather around kiddos. Let Auntie Lizzie show you what a good cup of coffee tastes like." And then I shall cackle and clap my hands with glee as everyone takes the first sip and they start drooling at the mouth and their eyes roll back in a caffeine, coffee bean induced orgasm.
Speaking of coffee and orgasms, I'm going to work.
I'm a night owl. I get all my best ideas and best writing at around 1 a.m. For the past four years at college, I avoided taking an 8 a.m. class. I know that I'm getting exhausted because I'm hitting the snooze button a little bit more each day. Oh, and the fact that I'm having to trick myself to get out of bed. My clock is set 30 minutes fast.
We're heading up to the lake this weekend, and I'm absolutely ecstatic. There's only so many weekends of my mom that I can handle in one month. It's the whole "we're exactly alike and we don't like spending the weekend with a version of ourselves." Except that I'm a night owl and she's a morning person. The horror!!!
Oh, and that she wakes me up at 5 a.m. everyday on the weekend. I'm sure you're asking yourself, "But Elizabeth, why don't you just roll over and go back to sleep?" My answer to you, ye naive one, is that it's hard to sleep when someone flips on the light, pulls the covers off of you, grabs you by the ankles and yanks you out of bed all while screaming in your ear at the volume only dogs can hear.
All this so I'll have a cup of coffee and watch the squirrels. And then she gets perturbed when for the first two hours, I talk like a caveman. Grunts, snorts, snarls and beating on my chest for added emphasis. Everyone who knows me knows that you don't talk to me in the morning until I talk to you first, but apparently, after 22 years, Momma hasn't figure it out yet. Or she chooses to ignore it.
I'd feel much better if I had a cup of coffee in the morning. But here's a little secret. The coffee at work sucks. I've been spoiled, because my coffee pot is an old Bunn from a restaurant. Makes some damn fine coffee. One of these days, I'm coming up there armed with a good coffee pot and going to page everyone and say, "Gather around kiddos. Let Auntie Lizzie show you what a good cup of coffee tastes like." And then I shall cackle and clap my hands with glee as everyone takes the first sip and they start drooling at the mouth and their eyes roll back in a caffeine, coffee bean induced orgasm.
Speaking of coffee and orgasms, I'm going to work.
1 comment:
Please bring good coffee stat.
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