Dear 6:30 a.m.,
It’s not you, it’s me. I’m sorry 6:30 a.m. I know I must have looked quite delectable this morning with the nice buttery sheet wrapped around me, all peaceful and sleeping. The birds were chirping and the sky was overcast. And that gentle breeze coming through the open window? That was awesome. So I can understand how you probably couldn’t resist, 6:30 a.m. Maybe you were extra curious about the Post-it Note Morning Song (“Keep it Up” by Soul Asylum). Maybe you were just really happy to embrace the day and have a healthy breakfast or some such bullshit.
But here’s the thing 6:30 a.m., you can blow me. We are not friends. We’ve never been friends and we’ll never be friends. I do not function well during the day when it starts that early. There’s no need for this kind of nonsense. I do just fine with my friend 7:30 a.m.
Maybe in your eagerness to get that early worm, you didn’t notice that I was up later than usual with Kevin Brockmeier’s A Brief History of the Dead. So seeing you 6:30 a.m. was not my idea of a good morning.
Here’s the real deal, and I know this probably hurts, but I love 7:30 a.m. We’ve been together a long time. 7:30 a.m. understands me. He gets that I need to have the occasional weekend dalliance with 8:30 a.m. and he’s totally cool like that.
So you see 6:30 a.m. there’s no room in my heart for you. Thanks for the introduction and all, but you need to go away. I hope you understand 6:30 a.m. And if you decide to show up again tomorrow, there will be trouble.
Yours ’til Niagara Falls,