I'm Such A Morning Person

I awoke with a haze descended,
I do not wake up well,
The mornings seem to scorn my being,
It is my private hell.
I turned on the spacious shower,
And unexceptionally stepped in,
The water was far too hot,
And now I have no skin.
I lathered up with the soap,
And what did I behold?
I had picked up the wrong container,
I’d lathered up Exit Mould.
I stepped out a toweled myself dry,
Glad to be free of dirt,
Only to find I had in error,
Toweled off with my ironed shirt.
I then used the underarm deodorant,
Letting out a strangled scream,
I had just applied a thick layer,
Of my shaving cream.
I brushed my teeth with liquid soap,
Anger building in my head,
I went to brush my receding hairline,
But used the razor instead.
I am far from psychic, but,
This thought filled my head,
I considered the way the day had started,
And just went back to bed.

This, in theory, is true. I don't wake up well. Sadly, our youngest daughter has inherited this gene from me and wakes up a similar way. Things should get particularly interesting as she gets older and we run across each other in the morning. I'm visualising two grizzly bears with attitudes ...