Morning People: Obnoxious Deviants
Note: I'm presently on vacation in Italy (right around now finishing up a week in Sicily and soon heading for Capri). Below is a piece I had published sometime in 1984... forty years ago. It came out in my local newspaper, The Springfield Republican, in western Mass.
Truth be told, my mom was the inspiration for this as she was a "morning person". It took me until senior year in high school for her to realize it might be best if she left me alone when I got up until I had at least one cup of coffee. God bless her.
Morning People: Obnoxious Deviants
There are more than enough mysteries in this world but none more puzzling than why God created "Morning People".
Ah yes, "Morning People"--those obnoxious deviants who thrive on arising before the neighborhood birds--those individuals harboring bruises from waking up before the crack of dawn, searching for the lights--the ones who not only get up early but add insult to injury by being somewhere between thrilled and ecstatic about it. We may as well face facts, we're talking "sick" people here.
You know who I'm talking about. You've heard about them through others. You may even have a sneaking suspicion about a friend or two. Those who are in bed before ten or who enjoy camping are prime candidates. And then, of course, there's some of us who have first-hand knowledge.
Out of a deep sleep, you hear this faint singing voice, "Wake up, wake up, you sleepy head. Wake up, wake up, get out of bed." You decide to ignore it, hoping it's a bad dream.
"Come on, dear, it's time to get up." You take a roundhouse swing, realizing you're not legally responsible for your first waking minute... The sound of your knuckles hitting the headboard echoes through the house.
As you stagger into the kitchen you spot them cooking breakfast and sweeping the floor--simultaneously. They hum loudly to themselves (usually off-key), and tell you what a beautiful day it is.
"How would you know? The sun's not even up yet," you growl as you search for a coffee cup, one eye open, your free hand holding on to the coffee pot for fear that it might go away.
"I circled the best articles in the newspaper for you before I went jogging. And then after I took my shower I built that room downstairs you've been meaning to get at. I thought that if you had some time before work we could make out the guest list for next year's Christmas party."
You actually start to weep as you realize the coffee's gone. You put on some water, deciding to settle for instant. Then you sneak back down to your room to get dressed, looking for some peace of mind. It doesn't work... they follow you out.
As you get to the room they manage to catch up, turning on the light switch as you enter. You react like a deer at night with the high beams on him.
"Okay, honey, I've ironed your blue ensemble, if that's alright. If not, I'll press something else for you." You listen for the direction of the voice, your arms extended, fingers wide apart, hoping for that lucky break. If you could just get hold of their neck... Too late, before you can react they've dressed you and ushered you back to the kitchen.
You sit at the table, finally drinking some coffee. The sun is starting to come up. In a couple minutes it's bound to shine a little light on what you're eating (you think it's eggs).
You take another sip of your coffee. The caffeine begins to work. You stare out the window, plotting your revenge.
"How do you get back at a 'morning person'?", you say to yourself. One more gulp of coffee and you have your answer. It's not how but when... at night, of course.