I’ve mentioned a dozen or so times here that I’m not a morning person. I’ve thought about whether that was a real thing— whether it was a “thinking makes it so,” thing. Here’s my evidence that, in my case, it’s not.
Christmas Day, I had to be somewhere at 9 a.m. I kept forgetting whether it was 8:30, I had to be there or 9, but it was 9. I set an alarm for 7:15, because the dog stuff takes a bit, in the morning, as does getting ready, and I wanted to have banana-apricot bread all ready to go into the oven when I got back.
I didn’t go to bed when I should have, but it wasn’t ridiculous— I was on track to get an about-average amount of sleep, for me.
I got up, got myself ready, did some stuff on the bread, realized there was no room in the fridge to keep the butter cold for the bread, briefly considered a bowl-of-ice around the mixing bowl solution, decided just to mix dry ingredients and get dried apricots to soaking (my mom moved them with her and they tasted fine but were hard as rocks), took care of the dog. I looked at the clock and thought “Great— 8:20, I’m already late.” I got the dog in and settled. I was halfway to my destination (about 10 minutes away) before I remembered that I didn’t need to be there until 9.
This morning, I went to the office water cooler with my tea cup and water bottle. I do this nearly every work day— we have a water cooler with a hot water spigot on the left and a cold water spigot on the right. I fill them both simultaneously. It wasn’t until I started to feel the heat through the metal of my water bottle (and honestly, a couple of “Wha?” seconds after that), that I realized I had filled my teacup with cold water and my water bottle with hot.
In fairness, I didn’t have a great night’s sleep either night, so maybe that could be a factor. But this— this is why I say I’m not a morning person. I’m demonstrably several (or possibly many) IQ points deficient, at this time of day. And it’s a head-smacking surprise to me every. single. time.