In the spring and summer, even the fall, I would consider myself a morning person. Although this is a relatively recent personality development. Through high school, my parents knew not to talk to me in the morning. Many days Dad and I would barely exchange five words on the 25 minute drive from home to school. Except the day I spilled my entire makeup bag under the passenger seat of the car, and Dad cracked up. I had words for him that morning.
But one thing about me has not changed. On a rainy, cold winter morning I resemble less a ray of sunshine and more a hibernating grizzly.
Hear me roar.