Archives for posts with tag: bed

earlybirdI’m a morning person. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I find that I do my best work in the morning, exercise better in morning, and have a better attitude in the morning. Mornings are magical.

Take this morning for instance. The alarm went off at 5 am, and I’ll tell you I did not want to get out of bed. I had just rolled over and became comfy when the clock began its incessant beeping. Ugh…the thought of resetting the alarm so I could get another half hour of z’s was tempting.

But I got up and made my tea, trolled facebook, used my 5 lives in Candy Crush (stupid level 437) and then began my morning freelance work. As I sat there typing away, I heard a bird making the most incredible song. He was singing “Figaro” – those three notes sung in Figaro’s Aria – over and over. Figaro! Figaro! It was so sweet, and nobody up to enjoy it but me.

There’s a smell and a feel to the morning that you don’t get at any other time of day. The air smells clean and cool. There’s a dampness you can almost feel and see as the morning light begins to kiss the earth. It’s the time of day when you see bunnies in search of sweet clover, and some times a turtle or two if it’s been particularly rainy. It’s so beautiful and the best part is the whole day is still ahead of you – filled with possibilities.

I’m one of those people who are up with the sun. Even on weekends, if I wake up and see that it’s light out, I’m out of bed in an instant – I don’t want to waste the morning! It may be because my dad was a morning person. If we were sleeping in late as kids he’d come up and roust us out of bed as if we were committing a horrible crime. I guess I learned that lesson early on.

When we would be vacationing on Martha’s Vineyard each summer, my dad would pick one morning for us to go fishing. When I was a little squirt everyone would go, and I rarely got a fishing pole. But as the years went by, I was the only one who was still interested in this early morning ritual – everyone else opted to stay in bed and sleep. Not me! What a waste!

Beach Road BridgeWe’d wake at 5:30. Dad would pour me a glass of cranberry juice, we’d eat some toast, and off we went! We’d head to the Edgartown docks or the bridge along beach road, and drop our lines in the water. The air would be cool – you needed a jacket – and the water was so still. All you heard was the sounds of the seagulls, the water lapping against the pylons, and the occasional splash of a fish. I always caught sea robins.

When I was in my twenties, I used to go to my friend Paul’s home near Hunter Mountain – what they call “going up the country” in my old stomping grounds. When we’d head up there for the weekend, we’d party late into the night on Fridays, but on Saturday mornings I was always the first one up. I’d dress, and head out to take a walk down the road – not so much for exercise – but just to start my day peacefully. I’d gaze at the scenery, peoples homes, the farm animals that might be out in the pasture.

It’s like I was all alone in the world because for the most part, the world hadn’t woken up yet.

That’s why I love mornings. The world gets so busy during the day with cars and people and sirens and radios and screaming kids in shopping carts. Yet when I’m out in the morning, I might only see a handful of people. You pass them on your walk and you think to yourself, “Yep. They get it.”




Everyone has recurring dreams. I’ve blogged before about my dreams of roller coasters that have haunted me since I was a child.

For years I had dreams that I’d gone to school and simply ignored the fact that I had a math class. All semester long, I’d keep reminding myself to get to that one class, but never seemed to go. And then it’s finals time and I know nothing, and I lament “why didn’t I ever go to class?”

After my school years were long behind me the dream changed focus. Now instead of a math class, I dream I’ve had a baby but have forgotten all about it. It will suddenly dawn on me that for days I’d left it upstairs in its crib. It’s had no food or no diaper changes and I frantically run up the stairs to rescue my poor child. It is miraculously always alive and relatively unharmed.

Lately a new dream theme is making a nightly appearance. Almost every night I’ve been dreaming of bathrooms.

I usually need to visit the sandbox at some point during any given night. But, I hate getting out of bed in a sleepy stupor to pee – I usually just roll over and ignore it. By the time the alarm goes off each morning, my back teeth are swimming.

So it’s no wonder bathrooms are sneaking their way into my subconscious. I have to go so my brain puts me in a lavatory. The freaky part is I never get to use any of these restrooms.

All the bathrooms in my dreams are unusable for one reason or another. Some are just filthy – toilet paper and water litter the floor. Some toilets have no seats or have been used and not flushed.

Sometimes there are no doors on any of the stalls and the bathroom is teeming with people. I am too shy to drop trou in front of a room of strangers so I can’t go. Other times all the stalls are occupied.

Sometimes the toilets are so weird that I can’t quite figure out how to use them. Or I walk aimlessly through a building and am unable to find a bathroom anywhere.

Just last night I dreamt that I was on the toilet and a ghost came in and started turning on the faucets. I ran out of the bathroom – it scared the shit out of me, but apparently not the piss. My attempt to relieve myself was foiled once again.

As odd as this sounds it all makes perfect sense. Think about it – if I find a serviceable bathroom, I may actually use it. And you know what that would mean – a late night session of sheet changing. I can’t remember the last time I wet the bed and I certainly don’t want to revisit that at my age.

I should experiment tonight. I should get my lazy ass out of bed at 1:30 am and use the bathroom. Then we’ll see if I dream of something other than the potty.

I’ll settle for Richard Gere in a pair of cut offs…