The Early Bird’s Worm

Today I had the delightful experience of waking up two hours after my first class of the day began. It was lovely to naturally open my eyes to the gentle morning scene rather than having them wrenched open by a blaring alarm. Only, the instant they opened I knew something was not right. Sure enough, my clock showed me a devastating 10:33 a.m. I wasn’t devastated, only slightly disappointed in myself— a disappointment easily relieved by a huff and a puff and a rolling over to go back to sleep and ignore the world. About 20 minutes later, I heaved myself up to continue with my day — continue, not start, because it had already begun a long time ago; I just missed the first part. As I went about preparing for the day, I had a vague idea that perhaps I should feel even an inkling of remorse about missing class and the first few precious hours of the morning, but I didn’t. The only concern at this point was that my car might have been towed. Once this fear was alleviated (my car wasn’t towed, not even a ticket), I took some time to put myself and my space together and then I shamelessly went to lunch for breakfast. I was relaxed and rested, the air was still fresh and crisp, the late morning sun still bright and clear. The commons food was still commons food, what more can I say about that. More importantly, my first class ended up also being my last class—who can be sorry about that? I got the usual amount of practice and homework in and then it was dinner time. When I got back to my room circa 7:15 pm, my day felt significantly shorter but no less complete than any other day. What does the early bird get? 

Rewind to when my 7:30 alarm was ringing. What if I had woken up to it and done the usual five snoozes before dragging myself out of bed? Watch me stumble out to my car with aching eyeballs torn prematurely from their much-needed sleep. After parking the vehicle half a block away, I shiveringly make my way back to my room with enough time to wash my face and brush my teeth. Mechanically, I start my cold jaunt to class bare-faced, utterly coffee-less and wondering whether I have a matching pair of shoes on but too scared to look. This first class slinks by but I leave no more knowledgeable than I went in. At this point, my primary interest is coffee, so I make a bee-line for the café. While I’m there, I might as well grab some food. Ah, starting to feel human. Now, I’m actually considering what I should do with my day. After deliberating for a solid half hour, I settle on a decision and head back to my room to get my things. While I’m there, I might put the place back together a bit – maybe make the bed, close the toothpaste, put the scattered laundry all in one place, maybe even put on a touch of mascara. Okay, backpack’s packed, shoes match, hair’s brushed and feeling ready to start my day. What time is it? Oh, it’s nearly 11:00 am, almost lunch time. Perfect!  

What kind of worm is it that this most exemplary of birds is always after? I’ve never found it, or at least it hasn’t been appealing to me.