Morning Routine

I try to keep myself from scrolling first thing in the morning. If I win it’s the second or third thing — after I drink coffee and put on pants, but before I brush my teeth. I find that if pantsless, decaffeinated me reads the news before thinking, analyzing me has rolled over and rubbed her eyes, the whole morning is a bust. The geyser of news, “news”, and friends getting married, pregnant, or tenured is too much for my goblin brain. If I hit it too early, I’ll spend at least my morning coffee wondering why I’m not getting married or tenure — my social calendar makes clear the how and why I’m not pregnant. Once my better angels have donned their own pants and drank their own coffee, they’ll remind me that I don’t want any of those things — too stuffy, too boxed-in, too many committees involved, but my subterranean self still needs soothing, reminding me that both I and others want exactly the life I have right now. This reminder doesn’t fit neatly into 280 characters and will go unlauded by the masses — but it makes the rest of the day easier to swallow.