Facing the consequences with my face
My head looks like a war zone. It’s as if those little green Army men staged an attack on my face. Everything below my nose looks like the DMZ.
This morning, someone said, “What’s wrong with your face?”
I thought it was a setup for a joke, but I’m not in ninth grade, and my old high school bully doesn’t live in Pittsburgh anymore.
I responded to this tactless human, “This is what happens when I shave at 6 a.m.”
I’m glad they didn’t see me before I left the house. Tiny bits of tissue paper were clinging to my neck. I looked like a buffet for vampires. Dracula would swoon if he saw me.
There are four accidentally self-inflicted wounds on my skin, caused by my razor blade, which is inappropriately named “Good News.” It was not “Good News” when I wrecked my face.
When the alarm went off, I shuffled into the bathroom like an extra from “Dawn of the Dead.” Even a hot shower didn’t wake me from my mindless trance.
It is the unfortunate side effect of staying up late. Night owls face unforgiving consequences when they try to catch the worm with the early birds.
I don’t mind mornings, but I wish they didn’t come so early. I’m afraid that if I go to bed before midnight, I’ll miss something. The only thing I’m missing is a proper sleep schedule.
I don’t drink coffee, and tea doesn’t quite pack the same caffeinated punch as a hot cup of java. I don’t consume energy drinks. I’m a flibbertigibbet. Just like you can’t feed a Gremlin after midnight, you can’t give caffeine to a flibbertigibbet. We’re already bursting with verve and bouncing all over the place. The Tigger pajamas aren’t just for show: they’re a statement.
Once, I consulted a sleep expert (if you haven’t found your college major, consider becoming one). He gave me several important techniques I can share here.
Learn how to meditate. The trick is to clear your mind and not think about anything. I really should be better at it.
Regular exercise also helps. I will let you know when I’ve been able to go to the gym for four days in a row. I do, however, sleep better after a few laps in the swimming pool, but it’s because the chlorine made my eyes red.
I no longer keep any electronics around at night. My cellphone sits in its charging station several feet from my bed. I’m no longer tempted to wake up in the middle of the night to learn if pilgrims ever wore buckles on their hats. The answer is no. Historical evidence shows that the Mayflower pilgrims’ hats were tall, wide-brimmed, flat-topped caps made of felt or similar material, but they were unadorned. I had to know that at 3 a.m. for some reason.
The No. 1 tip is to go to bed at a decent time. I’ll let you know if I ever do that, too.