I woke up and hit play. Suddenly, my bed turned into a concert venue. It became a dance floor and a slightly sketchy performance space.
One minute I’m saving the planet with Lil Dicky. The next moment, I’m yelling at imaginary dogs. I start flailing like I just realized I have arms. Then, I’m getting my freak on with Missy Elliott. I roar like I’m the lead lion in a Broadway version of my life. I bring SexyBack like it never left. Finally, I’m absolutely screaming along to In This Moment like I’m closing a festival set at 9am.
There were spins, collapses, and moments where I questioned my heart health. No rhythm, but plenty of commitment.
And honestly? It was awesome.
Mornings don’t have to be calm, productive, or dignified. Sometimes you just need music that is too loud. Movement that makes no sense. You need the freedom to be ridiculous in a room where no one is watching.
Life keeps rolling. The bed hangs in there.