I am not a morning person.

I am not a morning person. I am, quite definitely, a night owl.

For the past week, my apartment has been without hot water. No problem - I've just been showering at the gym after my evening swim. That worked fine until I skipped my swim yesterday so I could work a little later and still make it home in time for Gossip Girl (give me a break, it's not on Hulu). That meant that this morning I would either have to brave a freezing cold shower (while the temp outside was hovering around 50 degrees) or drag myself to the gym before work.

I hate cold showers more than I hate mornings, so I chose the gym. And this morning, at 6:30am, I was at the bus stop in my workout gear and a sweatshirt, hopping back and forth to keep warm.

Normally I swim, but I left my swimming gear at work yesterday, which meant this morning I had to run an embarrassing and torturous two miles. My reward, of course, was a hot shower. But before I could savor that small luxury, my eyes were violated by the sight of an unacceptable number of over-40, overweight women who were so comfortable with their flab and sag that they wandered around the locker room naked and uninhibited.

Things were definitely not getting off to a good start. To make matters worse, my gym bag was so laden with clothes and the accoutrements of getting ready before work that I struggled to carry it up the three flights of stairs from the gym and the three blocks to work.

I got to my desk at 8:30, well before anyone else around me, and by 10 I could barely keep my eyes open. It took three cups of coffee and two Diet Cokes to make it to lunch.

Thankfully, when I got home tonight the hot water had been restored, and with it, my commitment to leave 6:30am for sleeping.