Most of my life, I've considered myself a morning person. I've come to this conclusion mostly by association. In high school I always had morning Seminary, so, by the time 8am advanced algebra came around I was pretty perky while my friends were still trying to down enough coffee to construct complete sentences. Looking at them with dark circles under their eyes, sniffing coffee like the smell could pull them from their stupor, I knew I must be a morning person.
In my first semester of college my opinion was only strengthened. Most of the time I was the very first person who left my apartment and on my way out the door I saw nary a soul before my first classes. Again, I assumed that because I was out the door at 7:45 and able to walk and eat while frantically reading my english assignment, I knew must be a morning person.
Second semester I moved in with Denise, who would get up around the same time as me and suddenly I realized I may not be quite the chipper morning person I thought I was. I began to realize that I function in the morning, but I really have nothing to say to anyone before about 10am. We worked though though, because Denise wasn't much of a morning person either and we lovingly glared at each other as I slammed doors and she hissed at me while straightened her hair. Eventually after living together long enough we could do accurate morning impressions of each other much to the amusement of our other roommates.
Sophomore year I effectively lived alone so dealing with people in the morning was out. This summer, being unemployed, I stayed up far too late and considered it a major victory if I was out of bed at one in the afternoon. So, that makes this summer up until July moot as far as morning person-ness goes.
Enter Amber Packard my summer roomie in Paris. Amber is perky, very very perky and a decided morning person. I knew this going in and in the first week I didn't think there was much of a problem. Amber got out of bed about forty five minutes before me, got ready and, about half an hour before needing to leave I jumped in the shower and we eventually left. No morning conversation, no singing, no noise. Little did I know, Amber was merely suffering from severe jet lag. About a week and a half into the trip my alarm went off and Amber bounded from bed singing as birds careened through the room and flowers sprung from her every step. In thirty seconds I realized that I was no morning person, not even close. In the morning I wake up and stumble towards the shower after having beat my alarm clock into submission. I don't actually remember much about my mornings until I am rinsing the shampoo out of my hair. Amber sings Disney, dances and giggles reminding me somewhat of a little chipmunk scampering around the room thoroughly excited to see the world.
So, I am now decidedly a night person. Forever more, I relinquish my right to tell people I am a morning person. I function in the morning nothing more and sometimes less. Amber thrives on some mysterious energy that seems to envelope her in the mornings. If someone could figure out how to bottle that stuff and sell it Starbucks would be out of business in three days flat.
Revenge is sweet though, I get my energy burst at night right before she is ready to go to bed. The disgust I feel in the morning is returned in kind at night as I march through our dorm singing General Hathai's March.