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Good Mourning

I'm not a morning person, never have been. From as far back as I can remember, I've never really been the type of person to roll over and bed, feel the sun kiss my face, hear the birds sing, wake up to the sound of an alarm clock and think, "today's the best day of my life!". I'm usually the other guy; deep in slumber, sawing logs (like all snorers, I've never had the distinguished privilege of hearing the sweet, melodic sounds of my nocturnal singing performances) I've got a my drapes closed @ all times, birdsongs are overrated (it's like they're phoning it on or something; a total lack of originality!), the alarm clock goes off. I placed it across the room on purpose; that way I'll have to get out of bed. I throw a shoe @ it. This morning was different. I rolled over and felt the sun caress my face like a lover I lost ages ago, heard the beautiful chirp chirp chirp-ing of a mother bird and her young, jumped out of bed, stretched and f