10 Steps to Getting Ready in the Morning

The inspiration for this post came from the very talented (and prolific) Vanessa from 26 Years And Counting in her post "10 List Posts To Write When You're Too Tired To Blog". Well, I'm not tired, I am supposed to be studying for an exam but I was a bit inspired to share my mornings with you all because mornings are the best time of the day right?

Right?

I can't hear you...

Yeah, I know, I'm not on board with this either because this is how my mornings go:

1. Hit Snooze on the alarm. I repeat this step two or three times until either The Bookworm has a whinge at me or Ted decides to wake up and taps me on the chest to tell me it's time.

2. Slide into my Ted walking clothes. Pretty much always the same clothes (I do wash them occasionally) because I have this one set that is big enough to whack on straight over the top of my pyjamas and save myself that moment of undressed frostiness.

3. Realise that I didn't clean out the coffee pot after making coffee yesterday and get a little stab of bitterness in my heart. Search about for something to dislodge the ice cold hockey puck of yesterday, usually flicking bits of it about the place in the process, all the while vowing to start cleaning it immediately after use. Make coffee. Pour coffee into cup; at which point I am so exhausted and caffeine-starved that I set the pot back in its nook to clean later...

4. Drink second last mouthful of coffee as I stumble across a really interesting and long article I want to read on my phone. But Ted's having none of that, he can tell when I finish my coffee and despite my protestations he knocks the phone out of my hand and nudges me to action.

5. Growl at Ted as he circle-leaps and barks up the driveway past the sleeping neighbour's window, which pretty much has the effect of waking the neighbour with a terrifying guttural half-human half-beast bark-snarl.

6. Chase birds, bail up cats, leap in the air at the excitement of approaching a house with a dog. Well, Ted does these things but I walk him on a lead so I effectively do them too.

7. Remember, as I start to lower the zip on my cardigan, that all I have on underneath is my pink, striped pyjama top with all but two buttons missing.

8. Pick up poo.
Say a silent prayer that the thin film between my hand and the warm smushiness is intact. If it meets this first requirement, sometimes I take a moment to appreciate the warmth on my cold little fingers.

9. Pack my blender with green leafy things, bright fruity things, almond milk, chia and oats.
Turn it on.
Wait.
Watch the almond milk turn green while everything else stays in a frustrating lump at the top of the blender.
Shake blender.
Turn it on.
Wait.
Watch almond milk turn purple as it picks up a stray berry or two.
Bash contents of blender with a spoon.
Turn it on.
Wait.
Repeat shake procedure.
Repeat spoon bashing procedure.
Almost cry with relief as the contents start to homogenise into a lumpy brown sludge.
Look at the clock, note that I should be leaving NOW. Pour sludge into a portable cup to take to work so the boys can make comments like "If you don't live forever after drinking THAT, you're gonna be really pissed off."

10. Simultaneously: Shower, dress, brush teeth, spray garden with bitter stuff so Ted doesn't eat the plants, feed Ted, fill waterbowls, find shoes, pack bag, grab sludge and lunch.
Lock door.
Walk to car.
Have a moment where I can't remember if I locked the back door and turned the gas off after making coffee.
Go back to check.
Lock door.
Drive to work.
Fall asleep at my desk (well, not really, I can't sleep sitting upright).

Are you a morning person?