Return of the Saint

Why is it sometimes SO hard to get up in the morning?

To be fair it's not usually my problem. I was hardwired as an early bird at birth, which usually makes mornings a breeze and afternoons a chore. My brain normally starts overheating at about 3pm, steam can be seen appearing from my ears by about 5, and I've had complete grey-matter malfunction by bedtime. So if I'm going to do anything productive I KNOW I had better get up early and steal a march.

But as I stuck a big toe out from under the duvet this morning, Inner Sloth grabbed it and stuck it firmly back in.

'Why are you such a goody-goody? What use is working at home if you can't slack off now and again. Breakfast can wait, your work can wait, and that daft blog of yours can certainly wait. Take a load off!'

No flies on me. I can only surmise that Inner Bitch, raw from her beating yesterday, had sent Inner Sloth to do her bidding instead.

'As tempting as that sounds,' I retorted, 'I know where that leads. It leads to 4 more chapters of the book I'm currently hooked on, a mid-day fry-up (well, it's brunch then, isn't it, need to catch up by eating more!) and the deeply unsatisfactory feeling that I have turned into Hilda Ogden, so if you don't mind, I'll give the lie-in a miss, thanks.'

'Have it your way,' sighed Inner Sloth, sloping back into the wardrobe (no idea what she finds to do in there all day), 'but I'LL BE BACK.'

'I don't doubt it,' I yawned.

So I got up, had a nice hot shower, big mug of coffee and the now ceremonial bowl of Weetabix, and I'm at my desk blogging nonsense already. Even done a spot of work and it's only 11am! What's more, I've got some trampolining and walking built into my schedule today too.

'So stick that in your wrinkly stockings Inner Sloth!'

I know, it's such a little victory - so why does it feel so darn good?