I am so not a morning person and I don’t mean that in the ‘I am a little bit grumpy’ way or ‘ I take a few minutes to get going’ way but in the ‘I am an evil bitch’ kind of way. Mornings are a delicate procedure for me and as long as I get what I need then I am fine but if not, then I am grumpy, moody and it can have an effect on the whole rest of my day.
Rushing is one such example of something that can throw me into morning hell. I need to time to lay in bed and wake up properly, so if I need to be somewhere I will nearly always set my alarm to give me that time I need so I don’t have to jump straight out bed. Planning is important to me, if I know I am going to have to get up or be somewhere I will cope with it and do what means to be done but if for some reason it is unexpected then I end up raging.
I need space in the mornings to get going. I need time in bed to ponder the day ahead and enjoy the last few moments on the warmth and relaxation that a night’s sleep has gifted me. I also need silence, I am not one for morning chit-chat as a general rule which is why when I am finally up my ideal morning has me heading out the door to the gym or a for a walk. I like a bit of solitude in the morning. As I have written before, I am at heart an introvert and this is never truer than first thing in the morning. How I coped as a parent when my kids were young I have absolutely no friggin idea. I do remember the absolutely overwhelming happiness of coming home to an empty house after dropping them off at school though. Oh the joy of precious, delicious, enveloping silence which greets you as you walk back through the door.
My ideal morning is slow, peaceful, quiet. There is no rushing, even if there is a time scale to be kept to it has been planned out properly so I can still have time to linger in both the bed and the shower and leave the house without already feeling frazzled.
Of course the best mornings are those when there is no need to leave the house, when the kids are away and the only noise that greets you when you body finally awakes is the gentle purr of a cat or the familiar creaks and clicks of the central heating. Beside me he is already awake. He nearly always wakes before me. I will often slip out from underneath the covers and still half asleep pad across the landing to the bathroom to pee then immediately head back to the warmth of our bed nestle back beneath the covers breathing in the smell of our sleep, the unique heady scent of OUR bed, the place where we sleep, talk, laugh and most importantly of all love. Sometimes these mornings like start this but sometimes they start with something a little more invigorating and as far I am concerned the only acceptable way to be woken suddenly in the morning is by the feel of rough hands parting your thighs and natures morning gift to man being unceremoniously thrust into you.
As a general rule I hate waking up, I have real trouble getting to sleep at night but once I am asleep then I am dead to the word. Morning always seems to come too soon as far as I am concerned but if it can be approached at a leisurely pace and involves cock and orgasms then it becomes the type of morning I am more than happy to indulge in and if not then you will find me firmly buried beneath the covers in attempt to deny all knowledge of anything called ‘morning’
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