Getting out of bed this morning felt a lot like what I imagine having a Dementor suck out your soul must be like. It’s more or less the same thing every morning. I believe I can best explain this using the Kübler-Ross model, more commonly known as the five stages of grief. And yes, this will be a list. We didn’t have a list yesterday, but I made no promises about future entries. If you don’t like my list then GTFO. Anyway, here is what happens to me when my alarm goes off in the morning:
- Denial. Alarm? What alarm? Surely it must be Saturday by now. This can’t be happening. Why won’t it stop. OH GOD WHY WON’T IT STOP??? This usually leads to…
- Anger. Why is this happening? Why do I have to leave the safety of my warm cozy bed and go to work? It’s not FAIR. I HATE work. I HATE my life. WHY GOD WHY HAVE YOU PUT ME ON THIS EARTH JUST TO CURSE ME WITH WORK? IS THAT YOUR PLAN? DO YOU HATE ME? DO YOU ENJOY WATCHING ME SUFFER? Other people don’t have to work. Like dead people. Why can’t I just be dead? Well ok maybe not that but what about a coma? Or, well no not that either, but can’t I have the flu or a broken leg or something? Which leads to…
- Bargaining. The snooze button is this. Just five more minutes… But eventually I start to realize that I am going to be late if I don’t get up, which leads to…
- Depression. I hate my life. I am doomed to another 30 years (at least) of doing this. Maybe I’ll just lay here until I die. Or maybe just until I get fired. Of course then I couldn’t afford to pay my mortgage and I’d be homeless. Maybe that’s a better way. After all if I’m homeless I can sleep in as much as I want. Until I starve to death anyway. But I think I’d miss showering every day. Which leads to…
- Acceptance. Well I DO like to shower. And the shower is warmer than the bed. So I guess it won’t be so bad. I’m going to get up now.
The really interesting thing about this phenomenon is that it only applies on days when I have to get up and go to work. On days when I don’t set my alarm and actually can sleep in I usually get up an hour or so later that I would if I was going to work. This has lead me to wonder if maybe I could make this all go away by adjusting my work schedule, but something tells me that wouldn’t do much good. No I think it’s more the knowledge that I am being forced to get up against my will that does it. It’s like I’m in prison or boot camp or something.
I know this sort of makes it sound like I hate my job, but that’s actually not true. I like my job. I just hate work on general principle. Work is this evil and sadistic concept that was probably invented by Lucifer when he was cast out of heaven. But we have to work because we need money. Because money equals happiness. This is why people play Powerball. Not for the yachts and the penthouses and the poolboys, but because on a deeper, more primitive, maybe even subconscious level we all just really don’t want to be forced out of our beds.
