I used to hate mornings. If you dared to speak to me as I shuffled around the house, searching for breakfast and rubbing at my groggy eyes, you’d likely be rewarded with a glare or a sigh or a snapped request of “It’s the morning – leave me alone.” I thought of mornings as a chore I needed to get through in order to begin my day and wouldn’t really feel “awake” until I had made my way to work.