a.m. blues

I've figured out why it's so hard to get up in the mornings. Because no matter how good I feel when I put my feet on the floor, two hours later the whole day is shot.
First, there's the fight with Daniel about getting up, dressed, fed and out the door on time. Invariably, we're running late and as I get in the car I know I've left breakfast dishes on the counter and wasn't the laundry crawling up the wall? So that's what I'll be coming home to.
Then there's the clingy Daniel when I drop him off at school. Fifteen minutes of sobbing and hugging later, I'm back in the car feeling like a heel.
I'm greeted at work by the coffe klatch complaining long and loud about their bad night, their illnesses, the general incompetence of their coworkers, and anything else they can think of. The negativity spreads faster than the flu and by the time I sit down at my desk, I just want to crawl back in bed and start over. *sigh.* Can't I just skip right to the part where I thank God I have a job I like and get to work?
--Misty