Dear Future Me,
Eff mornings. For hardcore. Please tell me you’ve escaped that oft-quoted nine-to-five grind and never ever leave bed before nine a.m. for anything, ever. Because that is how life should be lived. Five a.m., even six a.m. is an ungodly hour unless it’s the middle of summer and you’re out Being With Nature and your brain is convinced it’s noon anyway. Future me, if you’re getting out of bed before mid-morning for anything other than the occasional hike or emergency room visit, please know I don’t approve.
Mornings seem to be a time to reflect on the day ahead and the night that has passed. We’ll do a post about your messed up freaky dreams another time, but for now let’s take a minute to appreciate the fact that you are even functional right now. Your day ahead will involve a lot of stress and maybe crying, since you’re new at this thing, and also since you just tend to give up all hope for humanity when some chick won’t stop bitching about how inconvenient it is being pregnant.
Did you notice that we just avoided ending a sentence with a preposition? I did. It’s six fucking a.m. and I care enough to adhere to not-quite-standard rules of grammar and composition. Although I will still capitalize words at random and at will. Eff you, English language, it’s sooooooo early for these kind of shenanigans. Seriously, get out of my brain meats: I need those for remembering how to make cereal.
Also, my Mancandy sleeps in several hours longer than I do in a given day, which makes it especially hard to get out of bed. I live in a cold and drafty old-people building and that dude is like an Olympian of keeping the bed warm.
Speaking of made-up Olympics, yesterday I told the Mancandy that I was a winner at faxing and that if there was a faxing Olympics I would bring home the gold!!! for Canada in collating. Dude pointed out that what would actually probably happen is that I would lose to a tiny Asian girl because tiny Asian women are better than me at pretty much everything.
Future Me, is this still painfully true?
Breakfast update: I have managed to create an English muffin, although after I slid it into the toaster I had this brief moment of panic where I thought we had not butter, and really a plain English muffin is just heartbreak on a plate. And maybe there are those of you out there yelling “Peanut butter! Peanut butter!” (maybe?) but I only have chunky peanut butter and to put THAT on an English muffin would be to turn my back on everything I stand for.
Anyway, I off to see if I can figure out how to put on pants. Wish me luck!
With highest hopes for pants,