My roommate and I met up in the kitchen this morning.
My roommate, who by the way, I adore. Not the girl who was never around mind you. She actually moved home to Texas back in April (after only being here about 2 months), which is when the current roommate moved in.
I know I don’t mention her much here, but I have honestly gotten so lucky in the roommate department. We get along insanely well and I love having her around. I was dragging my feet so much initially when it came to getting a roommate, but I am so beyond grateful I did. She beats an empty nursery any day!
She also got engaged about a month ago. Luckily for me, she doesn’t believe in living together before marriage - thus buying me more time with my truly fantastic roommate. Unluckily for me, she had a fairly expedited timeline in mind for the momentous event.
Which means that in January, once the “I do’s” have been exchanged, I will once again be roommate-less.
Is it wrong if I’ve secretly begun devising plans to stop this wedding before it ever happens?
Never mind. I know it’s wrong.
Consider my hand slapped.
I just wish everyone would stop getting married (and pregnant) on me.
I'm starting to feel like the last one left of my kind.
You know, the single (in the ring on my finger sort of way), childless, with no plans of eradicating either in the foreseeable future kind.
This is all, of course, insanely beside the point though.
(Would I be me if I didn't get ridiculously off track with my words?)
The point is, she and I met up this morning in the kitchen. Where we were both preparing our first meal of the day and discussing the events we had planned for the rest of the week.
Which is when she complimented me on my hard core, never-ending run last night.
I thanked her, told her how excited I was that we now have a treadmill to motivate us through the winter, and explained my new lofty ambition.
To start getting up early enough in the morning to pound out a run before work.
Because after all, isn’t a morning workout supposed to be the best way to start your day?
At least, that’s what I’ve heard.
It’s possible that the last time I attempted a morning workout was about 3 years ago. The ex and I were in the beginning stages of our relationship, and his job had him working insanely long hours for a few weeks. I decided that if I was going to be spending the night at his place, I might as well get up and try to do something with my day when he left for work. Even though I still had another 3 hours before my job expected me to be there.
So, I found a yoga class starting at 6am. And I convinced myself that I could do this. That it was a good idea even. A fantastic way to start the day.
The next morning rolled around, and I managed to groggily pull myself out of bed at the same time he did. We both dressed, and ate, and brushed our teeth – kissing each other goodbye at the painful hour of 5:30am.
From there, I drove to the gym. Where I arrived at 5:45.
And I sat in the parking lot staring at the front doors.
I’m not sure how it happened, but the next thing I knew – I was driving home at 6:15.
Having never even gotten out of my car.
I crawled into my own bed by 6:30.
And slept for another hour.
Making me more than a little tight on time when it came to getting to work.
Needless to say, I never attempted the 6am yoga class again.
It was a joke of an effort in the first place.
I had to come to terms with the fact that – I am not a morning person.
So when I said this to the roommate this morning, it seemed to be all she could do to stifle a laugh.
Finally, she said “You’re kidding, right? You can barely get out of bed in time to actually make it to work in the first place. You have to be there in 15 minutes, and look at yourself!”
I took a second to assess the situation.
She was right. It was 7:45. I had to be at work at 8. And there I was. In my robe, with wet hair and not a lick of makeup, cooking myself breakfast and haphazardly tossing enough food items into a bag to constitute as lunch.
Getting up in time to actually work out first is going to be a challenge.
A lofty ambition if ever I’ve had one.
Right up there with the goal I’ve had for quite some time now to get in bed by 10 at night.
Sunday I managed to turn the lights out by 12:45.
Last night by 11:25.
I like to consider this progress.
But enough progress to get up with my alarm at 5:30 (OK, who am I kidding – I’ll have to hit the snooze button until at least 6), work out for 45 minutes, shower, and get ready for work?
Lofty ambitions.
I’m setting the alarm anyway though.
If nothing else - it will give us something to laugh about tomorrow.
You know; after I actually manage to wake up.
ADSPACE
