I was writing on paper about this and figured it was a good enough thing to get into on screen. Or maybe I just type faster than I scrawl so it's more comfy. 

I've never been a morning person. Ever. Like, even as a small child. 

In my older years, I figured out that it's partly a personal space thing. Mornings where I have to interact with people are upsetting. No, seriously - there's this weird sort of bubble around my psyche that is overly sensitive and easily bruised by contact with others that early. It's why I rarely ever say, "good morning"; that phrase is particularly cruel to my soul. 

(Okay, it didn't help that my asshole father used to force those words on me and my sister and demand we respond in kind, but still. "Good morning" is reserved for a select few loved ones who understand me.)

Being self-employed and making my own schedule for years has allowed me to avoid mornings, a lot. An obscenely comfortable bed, animals that are hedonist jerks/sweetiepies who also love the bed, and a naturally late ciradian rhythm usually dictate that my days usually don't start until 11am at the earliest. 

(I know, hate me - but know that in turn, I don't usually get the clean cool scruff of morning or the wide-open-day-ahead feeling that mornings usually afford.)

I was just thinking, though, as I was journalling, that mornings weren't always awful. Boston mornings were gold for me. Idunno, the combination of taking the dog out into the cool air, the coffee, the solitude-bubble formed by a cloud of music-noise at the right level, and coffee, and writing, brought back that feel: the cold crowded fuzz of foot-commuting with headphones and notebooks and trains of people in that cold grey. We were all respectful of the fact that it was morning. No one pressed horrible greetings on you. No one made eye contact. But it wasn't out of animosity; we were all part of the same club, and something about that and the sensate noise of walking from stations to destinations and vice versa feels holy in my memory. 

Sigh. 

Maybe I can do mornings a little more. 

I might have to, if I want to make enough money and keep a proper swim habit. 

I just wish I could walk distances like I used to. Whatever. 

Metric. Metric is good morning music. Okay, they're good music, period.