I pretty much still look exactly this good when I wake up in the morning.

I miss being a morning person.  Until turning thirty, I’d bound out of bed singing, “Oh, what a beautiful morning. Oh, what a beautiful day!”  It would be animated—arms reaching up and everything.  That’s no exaggeration.  I’ve done that.  When I wasn’t singing, I’d wake up talking.  Matt, my boyfriend, used to call me Chatty Cathy.  When a crack of light creeped through the curtain, I’d just start: “I like the color purple.  Do you like the color purple?  What do you want to do today?  Did you see…?”  I’d open the curtains with a spunk and vivacity only exhibited in musical theater.  As I write that down, I realize Matt really should have left me by now.  He likes to sleep in and he moans every time actors break into song.

Sadly, I’m not the morning person I used to be, and it’s made me realize that the non-morning people in my life—Matt, my mom, and my best friend since childhood, Julie—must all really love me.  They are not naturally morning people.  And now, if I […]