Adrenaline Junkie?

Ok, maybe not. I mean I hate roller coasters. I don't think I'll ever bungee jump.

But in the morning sometimes I stay in bed, full bladder, reading or browsing internets until I think I might burst and then make a mad dash for the bathroom.

And I make a sport of delaying the inevitable, racing the clock to see how fast I can shower and choose an outfit and hit the road.

I think procrastinating may be one of those adrenaline things. I get a sort of satisfaction approaching pride in being able to pull "it" off, against all odds. I'm that good. Most of the time no one but me can be impressed at my antics, because I have become clever enough to hide the close calls from the public eye. My failures are conveniently private. My celebrations are also by necessity private.

Here I am, typing this post. It means my morning routine will have a flurried frenzied slam dunk in a fifteen minute window rather than a lazy leisurely half hour. It means I may not have time to stop for coffee...or do I dare? Do I push the envelope? Do I drive 72 mph instead of 70 so that I can squeeze 5 more minutes in for coffee? Am I just trying to suck the marrow out of life? My private self-induced rush could easily be shifted into a full hour of primping if I enjoyed that sort of thing. But I enjoy the mad dash. I'm impressed with myself. I like being a wash and go girl letting my curls air dry, or slicking my hair into a bun. I don't enjoy make up, I guess I would rather someone like me for me than for some feature enhancing smokey eye-liner.

I guess it's about control. Which is why I can be an adrenaline junkie that hates roller coasters. I take calculated risks on my terms. I don't mind winning privately.