Some mornings are like a personal insult. When you wake up to birds outside your window chirping cheerily and the sun streaming in, bright and warm. When you tumble out of bed to face it all, bleary-eyed and cranky.
On mornings like that you take all the beauty of nature as a personal slight, as though it was geared specifically towards pointing out your own failings as you stumble toward the kitchen, your head a mess from the inside and out.
You fall into the kitchen and mutter a slew of obscenities at the toaster that won’t work and the kettle that’s just a bit too slow to boil. Then the water boils and the bread is toasted, so you stop hurling abuse at kitchen utilities.
Suddenly things are looking up. You find yourself transformed from a cranky, bleary-eyed troll into what resembles something at least vaguely human. The world might still be an arse, but at least you’re ready for it.