On being a morning person

I am a morning person. At 6am, I am like that announcer on Groundhog Day.

Not like Bill Murray. Like the announcer who is screaming before the sun has even come out. I’m like that.

Most of the time it’s great because I live by myself and can just bounce around my apartment until it’s late enough for me to go outside and rejoin other humans. But sometimes I have to be somewhere early in the morning and well, you don’t want to be the person that has to meet me early in the morning.

Here’s how early morning encounters between me and other humans typically go:

(Ext. It’s 6am somewhere)

Me: [Removes earphones. You can hear that I was blasting bachata or salsa or some other latin music. The other human winces like he was kicked in the tibia with a hot poker] Good morning!

Other human: Ugh*. You’re a morning person

Me: Si. A little. Are you ready?

Other human: [Looks around for weapons to use against me, can’t find any and decides to walk away]

This happens every single time. Except when the person I have to meet is my sister, because she is a morning person too.

My sister and me up early on the day she was getting married.

My sister and me up early on the day she was getting married.

In my life now I have avoided having this scene play out daily because almost everything starts after noon. Except every now and then something happens and I have to be somewhere at a pre-11am time and people discover the full extent of my morning energy. That happened today. I was so enthusiastic and overwhelming that I had to apologize to the other person. And it happened once at Starbucks, where I out-pepped a barista at 6:30am. That’s hard to do.


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