I walked out of the dark into a well lit office building. The clock read 6:45 a.m. My eyes were still half closed as the haze in my mind begins to lift. Then… then I see her. She has a smile on her face, which contrasts my frown. I avert my eyes from her as we walk towards one another. She knows why. Surely, she isn’t going to say it; she has to know the state I am in. She sees my pain!! She won’t do it. She starts to walk past; I begin to silently praise her for making the transition easier, and then...she does it. She says the words I dread most.

“GOOD MORNING”

As I see it, the two worst words I used to hear during the day “good morning”. The words make me cringe. I am happy to see another day, please don’t get me wrong.. But I can’t take people being THAT happy first thing in the morning, which for me is any time before noon.

Ugh! Why? Please excuse me for preferring life after the two hands on the clock meet at 12. During the work week, I used to come in at 7a and not feel like moving until 11 or noon’ish. After that, I was your man. At 8a, I don't want breakfast, reading material, chit-chat. I want to go back to sleep and make this nightmare end. I see morning this way; it's like eating oatmeal while wishing I had a large juicy burger or a steak...filling but entirely unsatisfying.

Morning people talk gloriously about their breakfasts! They smile and speak of the syrup smothered pancakes and waffles they threw back while sipping on glorious breakfast blend coffee and reading the morning paper. They want to wax poetically about the beauty of the amazing sun rise and the joy of hearing birds chirping.

There, confronted with of her pert, bright-eyed exuberance, I faced a dilemma: toss my prized Sumatran coffee, my very lifeline, in her perky little face or say good morning through a tight-lipped grimace. No! A fake and very put on grin. No one needs to know that I dislike mornings, or I face being labeled a grouch for the rest of time.

Have you ever not said good morning to someone? Woo, the horrors that can ensue. I have experienced several indignant people in my time who seemed to make it a point to have me pay for not wishing them a “good morning”. My tight lipped grimace and utterance of ‘mornin’ got me called in to an officer once. Something about being nicer to people. Next time, there would be a firing squad for my heinous offense.

But that's work, part of the politics of office life, but why do such rules persist in one's private life as well?

“Heellloooo????”

“Good morning Jamal!! It’s Saturday!! Lets go have breakfast!!”

“Huh?? What time is it? Who is this??”

“It’s time for you to get up!! Come on, meet me for a great breakfast! You’re not going to sleep the weekend away are you?? Come on!! Let’s go!!”

“(sigh) This isn’t happening to me…”

I have a friend, let's call her Tasha Jackson, who occasionally texts or calls me on Saturday mornings around 7a.m. Sickening, right? I try to understand. I imagine she wakes up and jumps out of bed with a smile on her face just because it’s Saturday morning. She's that kind, you know? Not that there's anything wrong with that, but No No No...NO CALLING ME! Saturday mornings are for sleeping in, for resting. I smile if I can sleep until 1 p.m. without interruption (hint, hint). So if you care for me...for the love of ...just wait for noon.

"Good Afternoon" has such a nice ring to it! Good Evening sounds even better...!

More later, I need a nap...

-J