I'm not a morning person.
Really, truly, genuinely not.
I'm so not a morning person I get up waaaay early just so I can be awake by the time I have to do anything anyone might want to pay me for. (it makes sense in my own head, trust me).
So, at that waaaaay early hour I can generally handle either the minute numbers or the hour numbers on my alarm clock, but not both. When I say generally, that includes multiple incidences of staring meditatively at the glowing red numerals and wondering whether 8 comes before or after 5, then deciding either way it doesn't matter because I couldn't figure out what the significance would be regardless. As a general rule though I can focus to the right or left of that colon and, with a little bit of concentration, come to a reasonable conclusion about what I need to do next.
This morning it only took five minutes to figure out that, since I needed to pick up gas, I probably didn't have enough time for five more minutes of warmth. I rolled reluctantly out of bed, flipped on the lights and headed off to take my shower. Virtuous AND clean I also brushed teeth and got dressed before coming back into the bedroom to check the time and see how long I had left.
At which point I finally took a look at the hour number.
Which was a steady, unforgiving 2.
It's going to be a long day.