Good Morning Sunshine!

6:53 am: I wake up with a start as the pipes in my building clank against my wall - my housemate is in the shower. I know this because she showers EVERY morning at 6:53. I quickly calculate that I have 17 minutes of sleep left. Before I have time to readjust the pile of blankets that I'm hidden under, I fall back asleep

7:10 am: I'm assuming that my alarm went off. Since I've mastered the art of hitting the snooze button in my sleep, I can't confirm anything

7:20 am: my peaceful dream involving building a roller coaster for pot-bellied pigs is rudely inturrupted, again. Snooze button.

7:30 am: snooze button

7:40 am: snooze button

7:50 am: a snap judgement is made that I can wear a touque to class and thus forgo the effort of taking a shower, granting me ten more minutes of sleep. All I need is ten more minutes and I can start my day. Snooze button

8:00 am: snooze button

8:10am: I decide that breakfast isn't that important. Snooze button.

8:11 am: guilt becomes her. I drag myself out of bed, throw on jeans and a hoodie, check my email, say good morning to my long distance boyfriend, hap-hazardly make my bed, briefly consider lying down for 5 more minutes, decide against it and head upstairs

8:23 am: 1 kilometer race for class (I could run a kilometer in 3 minutes and 2 seconds when I was in high school - how good are my legs now? Not that good)

8:34 am: in class, trying to actually OPEN my eyes

The point is, I'm not a morning person.I never have been a morning person and it's safe to say that I'm not going to start to enjoy this process any time soon. Lately I've been making a valient effort for the sake of my abnormally-chipper-at-7am-boyfriend Steve to adhere to a normal schedule; while I'll admit that going to bed at midnight makes my days more productive, I feel as though I am denying myself of my one true love: sleeping until 2pm every single day.

When I was young, I used to stay awake reading until long, long after my parents went to bed. I pulled my first all-nighter when I was 11 years old, sitting in a hot tub at my best friend's birthday party. In junior high I would stay on the phone with my 'boyfriends' ... Colin, then Alistair, then Mike, until 3am, having hushed conversations underneath the blankets so that I wouldn't get into trouble. In high school I would frequently go for drives with friends around Calgary, parking at the top of cemetery hill and having the long, looping, intelligent conversations about things that were bigger than us -- the kind of stuff that made us feel older and wiser than our 16 years. Adam and I would go for blueberry pie at 4 in the morning at Denny's, stuffing our pajama-clad selves into a booth. My best-friend Kerry and I would hold study parties the night before math tests, cramming away and calling in obscure radio requests in the Tim Horton's by her house until the sun came up the next day. Not sleeping has never been a problem for me.

So why is it a problem for the rest of the world when I list napping as my number one hobby? I try to explain it - this is the way that I function! Just like I am good at math and am physically unable to throw a ball .... I stay up late and sleep in late.
That being said - so does my brother. Maybe it's genetic? At any rate, I am going to make the most of the fact that Steve has me working on a semi-normal schedule, veto the hour long nap before class and try to get some work done.

Less than 5 weeks to go!