So I am on the fencing team here at school.
We're a varsity team and all though know one (including athletics) knows it. Last year our new coach decided we should have our practices in the mornings to avoid class conflicts and such.
This year I am one of the captains, which is all fine and dandy, BUT it means I have to wake up EARLY and have cognitive function EARLY. This is a problem. A huge problem, because, frankly, my brain doesn't quite wake up till noon. At the earliest.
Anyways, Monday- Thursday I drag myself out of bed at 7:00 am and attempt to eat breakfast, wash my face, and put on clothes. This rarely goes smoothly.
For instance at that hour certain things become oddly fascinating. Like watching milk pour from a container into a bowl. The next thing you know the bowl is spilling over and you've wasted a bunch of milk and cereal and you don't have time to clean it up because you have to be at practice on time in order to yell at anyone who might be late and make everyone do push-ups, so it just sits there until you get out of class at 4 and by that time its crusty and smells weird and probably has attracted a whole new breed of cockroaches.
Or there's the days where my clothing is just plain uncooperative, or the more common occurrence: I don't check the weather and end up walking in shorts and a tank top in 50 degree rain.
I don't really have an explanation for my behavior in the mornings. I'm highly likely to turn into a dinosaur and rip your head off. Especially if you talk to me. I don't like humanity before noon. It's unacceptable for anyone else to even EXIST before noon.
My goal in the mornings is to successfully eat breakfast in the dark with my eyes half closed. God forbid someone try to talk to me during this. It throws everything off.
I remember moving into college my freshman year and having the bright idea to get brunch with my roommate I'd never met, her parents, and my mother. Well, I was hungry and lifting things so when she dared to change our plans I was ready to attack her in her sleep with forks and chopsticks and possibly broken pieces of the new mug I'd bought. Thankfully my mother intervened by thrusting a stale half of yesterdays muffin wrapped in napkins into my hand. After gobbling this down I was less likely to murder my roommate on our first night, but there is always that chance in the morning.
One of my biggest pet peeves, after the EXISTENCE of mornings, is being woken up a) by anything other than an alarm clock and b) before I actually need to be woken up.
The absolute worst is when someone comes into my room at 9:25 and exclaims, "Lauuuurel! It's time to get uuuuupppppp!!" At which point I wanted to shank her. However, this never happened as it would've required me to a) open my eyes and b) get out of bed. Which I flat out refuse to do before my alarm clock goes off at 9:30am.
Back to the main point of all my blabbering though: waking up for practice. The night before our first practice I was really excited, because hey! I was captain! and I decided to go to bed at 10:00pm, something I never do willingly. After laying in bed for 3 hours I finally fell asleep.
This means when I woke up the next morning at 6:45am I had only gotten 5 hours and forty-five minutes of sleep when I REQUIRE at least 8 to function. So Tuesday after barely surviving practice, I collapsed into bed at 9:40 after showering to take a "nap" before my 10:30 class.
Well When 10:25 am rolled around physically leaving my bed became impossible, especially for something as pointless as physics. So I went back to sleep and woke up at 1:25pm stumbled to my Japanese Architecture class, half slept through the class, and made it back to bed by 3:00pm. By this point I was convinced that I had the flu. Or mono. Or malaria. Possibly meningitis.
My certainty in my imminent death caused me to call my mother. She is a nurse and can save my life, I thought, half delirious. My mother told me to take my temperature. I didn't own a thermometer. She told me to take an ibuprofen. I only had aspirin.
So she told me to go to CVS and get myself a medicine cabinet when I felt better. I explained to her that I was on my death bed and this probably wouldn't happen. My mother told me to go to sleep and call her on Thursday if I was still feeling terrible. I ignored her advice and watched all the series' premieres from the week before. I mean, my mother is a Labor & Delivery nurse and an international board certified Lactation Consultant, what does she know about mansonelliasis?
Half way through the very first episode of a show that will probably be cancelled half way through its first season I decided I must have contracted herpes. I had a huge cankersore, I HAD HERPES. I spent the next hour gleefully googling sexually transmitted diseases.
I soon realized that herpes involves coldsores not cankersores. I was safe. However cankersores are caused by stress. I was stressed? Why was I stressed? What was wrong with me?
I couldn't fall asleep that night for hours. I worried about being stressed and the causes of my stress. And then I panicked because it was midnight and I had practice the next morning, so I worried about being awake.
We're a varsity team and all though know one (including athletics) knows it. Last year our new coach decided we should have our practices in the mornings to avoid class conflicts and such.
This year I am one of the captains, which is all fine and dandy, BUT it means I have to wake up EARLY and have cognitive function EARLY. This is a problem. A huge problem, because, frankly, my brain doesn't quite wake up till noon. At the earliest.
Anyways, Monday- Thursday I drag myself out of bed at 7:00 am and attempt to eat breakfast, wash my face, and put on clothes. This rarely goes smoothly.
For instance at that hour certain things become oddly fascinating. Like watching milk pour from a container into a bowl. The next thing you know the bowl is spilling over and you've wasted a bunch of milk and cereal and you don't have time to clean it up because you have to be at practice on time in order to yell at anyone who might be late and make everyone do push-ups, so it just sits there until you get out of class at 4 and by that time its crusty and smells weird and probably has attracted a whole new breed of cockroaches.
Or there's the days where my clothing is just plain uncooperative, or the more common occurrence: I don't check the weather and end up walking in shorts and a tank top in 50 degree rain.
I don't really have an explanation for my behavior in the mornings. I'm highly likely to turn into a dinosaur and rip your head off. Especially if you talk to me. I don't like humanity before noon. It's unacceptable for anyone else to even EXIST before noon.
My goal in the mornings is to successfully eat breakfast in the dark with my eyes half closed. God forbid someone try to talk to me during this. It throws everything off.
I remember moving into college my freshman year and having the bright idea to get brunch with my roommate I'd never met, her parents, and my mother. Well, I was hungry and lifting things so when she dared to change our plans I was ready to attack her in her sleep with forks and chopsticks and possibly broken pieces of the new mug I'd bought. Thankfully my mother intervened by thrusting a stale half of yesterdays muffin wrapped in napkins into my hand. After gobbling this down I was less likely to murder my roommate on our first night, but there is always that chance in the morning.
One of my biggest pet peeves, after the EXISTENCE of mornings, is being woken up a) by anything other than an alarm clock and b) before I actually need to be woken up.
The absolute worst is when someone comes into my room at 9:25 and exclaims, "Lauuuurel! It's time to get uuuuupppppp!!" At which point I wanted to shank her. However, this never happened as it would've required me to a) open my eyes and b) get out of bed. Which I flat out refuse to do before my alarm clock goes off at 9:30am.
Back to the main point of all my blabbering though: waking up for practice. The night before our first practice I was really excited, because hey! I was captain! and I decided to go to bed at 10:00pm, something I never do willingly. After laying in bed for 3 hours I finally fell asleep.
This means when I woke up the next morning at 6:45am I had only gotten 5 hours and forty-five minutes of sleep when I REQUIRE at least 8 to function. So Tuesday after barely surviving practice, I collapsed into bed at 9:40 after showering to take a "nap" before my 10:30 class.
Well When 10:25 am rolled around physically leaving my bed became impossible, especially for something as pointless as physics. So I went back to sleep and woke up at 1:25pm stumbled to my Japanese Architecture class, half slept through the class, and made it back to bed by 3:00pm. By this point I was convinced that I had the flu. Or mono. Or malaria. Possibly meningitis.
My certainty in my imminent death caused me to call my mother. She is a nurse and can save my life, I thought, half delirious. My mother told me to take my temperature. I didn't own a thermometer. She told me to take an ibuprofen. I only had aspirin.
So she told me to go to CVS and get myself a medicine cabinet when I felt better. I explained to her that I was on my death bed and this probably wouldn't happen. My mother told me to go to sleep and call her on Thursday if I was still feeling terrible. I ignored her advice and watched all the series' premieres from the week before. I mean, my mother is a Labor & Delivery nurse and an international board certified Lactation Consultant, what does she know about mansonelliasis?
Half way through the very first episode of a show that will probably be cancelled half way through its first season I decided I must have contracted herpes. I had a huge cankersore, I HAD HERPES. I spent the next hour gleefully googling sexually transmitted diseases.
I soon realized that herpes involves coldsores not cankersores. I was safe. However cankersores are caused by stress. I was stressed? Why was I stressed? What was wrong with me?
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