Good morning. It is time to awake.
Why do I make my bed?
The reason that I made my bed this morning was not so that my room would look nice, although making the bed *does* significantly improve its appearance (considering that the bed takes up three quarters of my diminutive room). The reason that I made my bed was not that I planned to fling my clean laundry all over it so that I could sort my annoyingly challenging socks (where do sock twins disappear to?), though there was in fact much flinging. I made my bed so that I would be less likely to crawl back into it. As a preventative measure, if you will. After it is "closed," the visual cue tends to send signals to my brain that I have passed the point of no return - it's time to get moving.
I get dressed, after the bed-making mentioned above, purely to emphasize this notion that I'm "ready to start the day" to myself. If I'm in my pajamas, the likelihood that I will want to throw back the covers and scream, "to hell with it all," while flying through the air into soft and stressless bliss, is slightly greater.
So this is why I make my bed and get dressed in the morning. And by morning, in this particular instance, I mean 12:37pm. But that's besides the point (and incredibly late for me!). This is one of my favorite scenes from the movie "Orlando," in which the Lord Orlando is inexplicably sleeping for days on end. And it is also an example of how I would not like to be woken up!
During the work-week I get up at 5:47am. My alarm is usually set for 5:35am and then I snooze until it becomes more dire that I arise. I drive to work for about an hour and fifteen minutes, and this is my "thinking" time - when I plan my day, when I have bouts of creativity, and when I sing at the top of my lungs (well, perhaps there is slightly less "thinking" involved in that portion). It is sometimes still foggy, sometimes the sun is glistening on the reservoir alongside the freeway. Sometimes I feel the urge to take down notes when I finally park for work, to remember all the mental ramblings that have transpired en-route. Though the commute can definitely be a pain, at times it is exactly what I need.
The reason that I made my bed this morning was not so that my room would look nice, although making the bed *does* significantly improve its appearance (considering that the bed takes up three quarters of my diminutive room). The reason that I made my bed was not that I planned to fling my clean laundry all over it so that I could sort my annoyingly challenging socks (where do sock twins disappear to?), though there was in fact much flinging. I made my bed so that I would be less likely to crawl back into it. As a preventative measure, if you will. After it is "closed," the visual cue tends to send signals to my brain that I have passed the point of no return - it's time to get moving.
I get dressed, after the bed-making mentioned above, purely to emphasize this notion that I'm "ready to start the day" to myself. If I'm in my pajamas, the likelihood that I will want to throw back the covers and scream, "to hell with it all," while flying through the air into soft and stressless bliss, is slightly greater.
So this is why I make my bed and get dressed in the morning. And by morning, in this particular instance, I mean 12:37pm. But that's besides the point (and incredibly late for me!). This is one of my favorite scenes from the movie "Orlando," in which the Lord Orlando is inexplicably sleeping for days on end. And it is also an example of how I would not like to be woken up!
Click to viewDuring the work-week I get up at 5:47am. My alarm is usually set for 5:35am and then I snooze until it becomes more dire that I arise. I drive to work for about an hour and fifteen minutes, and this is my "thinking" time - when I plan my day, when I have bouts of creativity, and when I sing at the top of my lungs (well, perhaps there is slightly less "thinking" involved in that portion). It is sometimes still foggy, sometimes the sun is glistening on the reservoir alongside the freeway. Sometimes I feel the urge to take down notes when I finally park for work, to remember all the mental ramblings that have transpired en-route. Though the commute can definitely be a pain, at times it is exactly what I need.