I really hate waking up in the morning. No, it’s not waking up. It’s that 15 minute post-sleep feeling that I hate, where I feel like I could just melt away into the bed, never to return, eyes heavy, and body like stone. Then after snoozing four or five times, I drag my lathargic ass out of bed, strip, and stumble, drunkely, into the shower.
So there I stand, naked, with the water (that is typically slightly too hot) cascading down my body, and I contemplate calling in sick. Daily.
But I grab my Zest soap (to get zestfully clean) and my Herbal Essence shampoo and I am suddently revitalized sufficiently to make it through the day.
But this morning, I’m in the shower, completely brain-dead, and I just start singing — but not normal singing. It was more like … if I were a zombie Broadway star and I had to sing. And the only thing that would come to mind was “Dearest Matthew, I am writing you from the waiting room … I’m next. Dr. Muget says I’ll barely feel a thing — 90 seconds. …”
And now it’s been stuck in my head. I’ve been constantly Coming To Jesus.