The philosophies of morning

There are two--and only two--sorts of people when it comes to mornings. There are those people, those very annoying and slightly superior-acting people, who get out of bed before they have to. They actually shed the bed clothes because they want to. Because they enjoy the thought of doing so, of observing the bright new day springing forth, unbidden.


Then there are the other sorts of people. These sane individuals time their rising down to the last millisecond. They know exactly how long they can snooze without the lose, when they simply MUST get their heads off of the pillow and into the shower. 


These latter folks, the sunrise-challenged, these models of rationality, understand that morning is for sleeping, not waking. There is no joy in Mudville once you are out of bed. Nirvana exists in those misty moments when you lie oh so quietly, sleep clinging to your brain like a damp fog not quite ready to lift. 


These moments are not unlike my brain on two glasses of Riesling. Reality is blessedly blurred, merged with the last dream of the night. The bed is still warm, my dog still curled next to me, respecting the morning pattern of Liz lying comatose through two snooze smacks of the alarm clock. 


But those other people, those morning people? Some of them get out of bed before their alarms go BLARING off. Some of them--get this--some of them don't even USE alarm clocks. They bound forth to greet the day as though it was a particularly special one, as opposed to the one that happens every day at this ghastly time of the morning. 


Morning people sip their coffee slowly, gazing out the back window, reveling in the bird song on a quiet summer morning. Morning people think deep thoughts while reading the paper, composing editorial responses that are cogent and pithy. 


The sunrise-challenged? We suck down our caffeinated beverage of choice, hoping desperately that the caffeine kicks in NOW before we run out and kill the damn birds that are making so much noise. We read the newspaper and swear quietly under our collective breath, muttering incoherently about Democrats or Republicans and how stupid they are.


Yet we, the rational, the sunrise-challenged are frowned upon in our society. Imagine that. Being a morning person is clearly a superior form of being, more perfectly made, more efficient. Sometimes sunrise-challenged people are actually accused of responding inappropriately toward the annoyingly preternaturally perky morning people in all of their perfect splendor. 


I'd like to propose a detente between the two camps. Why can't we adopt a live and let live attitude toward one another? A let sleeping dogs (and people) lie tolerance of one another's life choices without judgement or self-righteous preening? 


I'm fine with you all chirping away over your coffee at 6:19am. I don't think there's anything wrong with you, beyond a constitutional inability to enjoy the bliss that late-rising people savor. Maybe you morning people could cast a similarly less judging eye over me as I snore contently when I could be writing a novel and negotiating world peace. 


It might be easier to broker peace in Israel.