Evil, Thy Name Is Mornings

There are two things I absolutely hate. One of those things is asparagus. The other thing is mornings.

There are a few rare, vaguely humanoid creatures in this world who actually enjoy mornings (one of which is my brother). They are NOT TO BE TRUSTED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. I repeat, if you find a morning person, back away slowly and make pleasant conversation about the weather before screaming and running away. Neadless to say, I am not one of these so-called 'early risers'.

I have three separate alarms on school days in order to wake up and get myself out of bed. THREE. Because of this, whenever I hear the sound I've set as my alarm I immediately flinch and look around frantically like a frightened squirrel.

Mornings are made even more difficult because I haven't yet discovered the wonders of coffee. I love the concept of coffee. It smells delicious and it gives you energy, but the actual coffee tastes sort of like hot tar to me. I mean, I've never actually eaten hot tar, but I imagine it would taste sort of like coffee.

I am naturally distrustful of energy drinks like red bull because if you have too many it can ACTUALLY AND LITERALLY KILL YOU. I am a very small person and it probably wouldn't take many cans for me to get a heart attack.

Without the boost from caffeine, I am forced to slog through the mornings as a zombie. I sometimes stick my arms out and moan "braaaaaaaaaains" for effect.

There are those rare mornings where I wake up jittery and nauseous from lack of sleep and am able to avoid the zombieness until around noon, where it hits me with the full force of a freight train on steroids. Not that freight trains can actually take steroids, but I think I can bend the rules of reality for the sake of a metaphor.

Point being, wake me up before noon, and I have the energy and enthusiasm of a salt covered slug. Okay, ew, I should really stop it with the weird metaphors.