It's only 8:27 a.m., and I'm ready to go back to bed. I have a sleep hangover from waking up too quickly.

My happy slumber was interrupted this morning when I rolled over in bed and noticed that the room was filled with more light than usual. I grabbed my alarm clock, which read 7:36. Cripes! I forgot to set my alarm.

I leaped out of bed, washed my face and smeared on the minimum amount of makeup required to prevent me from scaring people, and concealed my bedhead. That's not an easy task when a ponytail isn't an option, but luckily I showered before bed last night so my hair wasn't all wonky and gross. I packed my breakfast, fed the cat, and managed to leave the house by 8:00.

Now, a twenty-four minute mad dash to the door probably isn't impressive to the college students on board, but I'm pretty impressed with myself. I can easily waste 90 minutes before work each day. See, I wake up slooowly. It's not like I spend the whole time beautifying myself, but I do everything in such slow motion that preparing for the day takes about 45 or 50 minutes longer than it should. Plus, I believe in leisurely reading my newspaper and eating a complete breakfast, which is difficult to do at work. Oh, and I'm easily distracted by Mr. Blue doing something adorable and feeling the urge to scrub the sink, sweep the bathroom floor, take out the garbage, wash a week's worth of clothing, or do some other random chore.

Like my dad, I love sleeping. However, I also inherited Mom's OCD. I'm telling you, it's a terrible combination that presents quite a quandary in the morning.