For all my talk of morning routines and how vital they are, can I share a secret with you? I mean, we’ve been chatting for a bit now, so I feel comfortable doling out a little nugget of what’s really behind the screen.

There’s days when I don’t want to get out of bed.

And some days, I give into that. I feed the animals (so they’ll be quiet) and then go back to bed. And it’s glorious. Another two hours of sleep, and sometimes, they’re the best two hours of the entire night. It’s everything I dreamed it would be.

Trouble is, the rest of the day doesn’t tend to go too well.

This morning was one of those days. I turned off the alarm, listened to the animals begin to rustle around, and debated the finer points of swinging my legs over the side of the bed and getting my ass moving, or indulging in another few hours of sleep. It wasn’t a good night of sleep. Full of weird dreams and fruitless searching for a comfortable position. It’s Monday. I’m pretty sure Monday can wait.

So here I am, freshly showered after a half hour of furious sweating on the exercise bike… for what? My head is empty and I’m writing about… not much at all. My suspicions about this particular Monday seem to be confirmed – it could’ve waited a couple hours.

But then, I stop. Look outside and it’s pretty nice out there. Listen to how quiet it is early in the morning. No one is rustling around upstairs yet. There are no demands on my time except to be here and find something to write about, whether it’s good, middling, or terrible.

Really, isn’t this what I want most of the time? To have just enough freedom to decide what I’ll do next? To have one quiet hour to wrap myself up in? To have that one inch to punch inside that gives me just enough of a chance that day?

It is.

Guess it was worthwhile getting up after all.