A masterclass in doing the bare minimum before breakfast.
Waking up earlier — right, here’s the thing: it’s miserable. At first, I didn’t so much get up as lurk in bed, lying there like a wounded seal for 5 or 10 minutes, mentally preparing myself for the Herculean task of standing up. It was a struggle. A colossal, soul-sapping struggle. But it did get easier. Mainly because the lil dog sees it as his solemn duty to launch himself at my face every morning at exactly 6:03 AM. And he’s never once missed.
Making my bed — The moment I’m vertical — before my brain has a chance to file a complaint — I make the bed. This came after I watched a Navy SEAL admiral, McRaven, barking on about how small wins in the morning set the tone for the day. Very inspiring. Although, if you ask me, the real achievement isn’t a perfectly fluffed comforter. It’s managing to stand up without immediately falling over like a cow in a hurricane.
Bathroom pit stop — once the bed’s vaguely tidy, I stagger to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Very important if you plan on socializing with real, live humans — like your neighbors — without them fainting mid-hello. And since I’m already there, I usually bash through the whole morning ritual: a wash, clean clothes, generally making myself look less like someone who just fell out of a hedge.
Drinking water — having conquered bed-making and basic hygiene, I shuffle downstairs like an elderly zombie and head straight for the kitchen. I usually rummage through the fridge first, in case it’s magically restocked itself overnight (it never has). Then, and only then, I drink water. Yes, I know it’s boring. But water rehydrates your shriveled husk after lying there like a potato for hours. It also helps clear the fog in your head. Science-y people say it flushes toxins and boosts metabolism. Although at my age, I’m just relieved I have a metabolism left. And while you’re standing there feeling virtuous, you might as well make coffee.
A one-mile walk — roughly 1,500 steps, or 30 minutes if you own a dog with the attention span of a toddler at a fireworks show. The lil dog has important business to attend to: sniffing things, barking at invisible threats, and occasionally pausing to think about the meaning of life. Fresh air, a bit of exercise, and smiling at strangers all conspire to make you feel slightly more human. Unless it’s raining, in which case it’s just character-building.
Saying hello to everyone — it’s a simple rule: if someone comes within earshot (or sniffshot, if you’re the lil dog), you say hello. Most people are lovely. Some are grumpy. All are surprised when a small white dog and a semi-conscious human shout cheerful greetings at them before 7:00 AM.
Coming home to coffee — the smell hits you as you open the door. Proper coffee. None of that instant nonsense. That smell is how I know I’m still alive and haven’t accidentally wandered into some afterlife where mornings don’t exist.
And then, finally, breakfast. I try to be healthy — really, I do — and avoid ending up facing down a croissant, bacon, sausage, and eggs like it’s some sort of all-you-can-eat festival of bad decisions. On mornings when I decide not to smother my arteries in regret and heart attack, I go for a heroic bowl of Kellogg’s and oat milk. Or oatmeal and fruit. Yes, I can be that person. Smug and cereal-based. Briefly.
Work — I work from home, which means after gulping down my gallon of coffee and wrestling with my cholesterol, I sit down, open the laptop, stare at the avalanche of emails, and attempt to plan my day. Mostly, though, I wonder how early is too early to start wishing for 4 PM. Or Friday. Whichever comes first.
And there you have it. I’m not some lifestyle guru with abs made of marble. I just thought I’d share my morning routine, because frankly, it’s better than the alternative: staying in bed until noon, dehydrated, depressed, and being judged by a small dog.
Thanks for dropping by my little corner of the world. If the story gave you a chuckle or made you pause and think, a like would be mighty kind. And if you’re feeling adventurous, well, hitting that subscribe button is like pulling up a chair and staying a while—always room for one more.
I subscribe back, by the way. It’s my way of saying, “Welcome to the club—snacks are in the back, goodtimes up front!”
Your comments make me smile, sometimes laugh out loud, and every now and then, they nudge me to dig a little deeper, write a little better. So, stick around—who knows what we’ll stumble upon next!
If you’re feeling a little generous—like the world’s got just enough warmth left in it for a small kindness—wander on over to my Donate page. No pressure, just a gentle nudge from the universe, saying, “Hey… this might be worth it.”
A Kings 
Leave a reply to emilyd126 Cancel reply