I love the smell of napalm in the morning.

I am not a morning person.

According to family lore, I hated to sleep as a toddler. I refused to take naps and would often fall asleep in my dinner. My loving father, has photographic evidence of these events. Unfortunately, these were in the days before photoshop, so I know that they must be true.

Bedtime was another struggle. Allegedly, I would not go to bed at night, either. The rumor is that I had to have a very strict routine, and it was a daily battle. Until a loving babysitter introduced my parents to the secret of books and their power to keep me quiet and eventually fall asleep on my own. Again, photographic evidence confirms me asleep at a young age with a book over my face.

Now, what has this to do with mornings?

See, up until this time I was a very early riser. You know, one of those annoying kids who would wake up at the butt-crack of dawn when the parents want to sleep in packed full with enough energy to power a small town? Yeah, that was me. Allegedly.

But not so much anymore. I do not recall any of this part of my life where I bounded out of bed each morning, anxious for each new day. Maybe that was the glorious innocence of youth.

For as long as I can remember I’ve hated to get out of bed in the morning. It’s not that I actually dislike mornings, it’s the getting out of bed factor. There’s something glorious about how pulling up the covers and going to sleep makes the rest of the world disappears. I can curl up in my bed, and open the cover of a book and lose myself in the adventures, glory or pain of the characters. And you know what? When I close the book – it no longer exists. No pain. No joy. No sorrow. And I can go on with my life. But, for one brief, shining moment, there was something that I could become fascinated with, but did not impact my daily life.

Or, I can close my eyes and drift off into sleep. Of calming, peaceful slumber. And I hate to get out of bed in the morning. It’s not so much just the morning. But getting out of bed is a horrid experience. Even if I’ve slept for 8 hours, I just do NOT want to get out of bed. I miss the care-free days of my youth when I COULD spend the occasional Saturday in bed for the entire day.

However, I do love the sunrise. I love the quiet stillness of the morning. I love that I get to work almost 2 hours before everyone else, and can get so much done before the crazy hussle of the day.

Even if I do have to get out of bed.