There are a handful of ways to effectively wake me up in the morning.
As a child, my dad thought it was a great idea to throw on the lights and sing a song involving a hickory stick:
“Reading and writing and ‘RITHMETIC! [Something about a] hick’ry stick!”
This got me up, and while I see the humor in it now, I can’t really say that I fully enjoyed it at the time. Although I did find it a little bit funny even then.
This method is still exercised in the Brewer clan, and my brothers have gotten in on the act. The brothers also like to rip the covers from my bed, which I do not appreciate. This past Christmas my dear brother Riley woke me up to open presents by kicking my air mattress. Sweet, really.
Are you getting a sense here of my motivation for living alone? Sure, alarm clocks are not the most pleasant sound, but at least I can keep my covers on me.
I will say Mom is much sweeter about the waking up process. One morning while I was in high school, she crawled into bed with me and said, “I don’t want to get up either.”
Another effective way of waking me up has not actually been tested, but my hypothesis is that it would work. And that would be to turn on Peter Paul and Mary’s “If I Had a Hammer” on full blast. Man, that song gets me going. Some other songs that would probably be effective: Celine Dion’s “That’s the Way it is,” Dire Straits “Money for Nothing,” Sister Act 2’s version of “Oh Happy Day.” “Country Roads.” Oh yes, Country Roads.
These are just off the top of my head.
There is of course the most obvious way to wake me up: coffee.
I was staying with my bestie Nick a couple of years ago, and we had both been up for a while chatting, he sitting at a table with his computer, me from the comfort of my rented futon space. Eventually Nick decided it was time to get a move on and greet the outside world. I looked at him with some surprise and said, “Nick, you know how to solve this problem.”
Shortly following, a mug of coffee was brought to my futon, and later the outside world was greeted by Nick and Bailey.
And finally, there is something that can effectively wake me up and that is something that never fails to get me chattering in a ridiculous language:
When I see an animal, I can hardly help myself in talking to it. “Hi, Baby/Pumpkin/Booger.” Birds, cats, dogs, horses. Cows in fields on the side of a road I drive along. Bugs, sometimes. I once even greeted the ocean in this excited manner and my mom laughed and said, “She talks to it like she talks to the cat.”
When I stay at my parents’ place, which is currently equipped with three cats, I can hardly walk through the house or leave to go somewhere because I have to greet and smooch on every cat every time I see them. I would say I should work on this, but I don’t really know that there is anything in this situation that needs work.
Once when I was staying at Nick’s parents’ place in Ohio, I was awoken at least one morning by the family pets. My bedroom door was opened and a Maine Coon cat crawled across me and a Chihuahua sniffed and licked me. Tozer, the sweet lumbering dog who has since gone before, shuffled slowly along the carpet, not sure how he was supposed to be involved but present nonetheless, the Snuffaluffagus of the animal tag team.