Backing up here because I adjusted my first habit, start the day with green tea and lemon, to this, starting the day with lemon water. I did it because, well, it's kind of too princessy to expect a cup of tea in bed every day, and then there was a sort of decadence creep where tea in bed turned into coffee and milk in bed turned into coffee and milk and toast in bed, and then I started on 750 Words, which is really great, and I can't type and juggle a cup of hot tea at the same time.
The Cue
The key behavior isn't drinking the water when I wake up, actually, it's setting up the water before I go to bed. So the cues are different, I finish what I'm doing in the evening, either I'm coming home from practice or training or I'm getting up from watching television on the couch, and pretty much all I want to do is go to bed. Timewise we're talking ten or eleven, sometimes as late as midnight. It's not that I'm so tired, I'm usually not. I'm just finished for the day and not coming up with anything else to do. Like flossing or brushing my teeth, which is the grossest thing about me that you know. I'm not sure what's so much more motivating about having a room temperature drink of lemony water when I wake up than, like, undecayed teeth, but the rough beast slouching towards Bedfordshire will indeed stop and smell the lemons.
The Routine
Which means, I get the lemon out of its jar in the fridge and slice off a slice of lemon. I plop that into a jelly jar and fill it with water. If I have a nub of ginger, I put in a slice of that like in the picture. Then I cover the jelly jar with its lid and put the jar on the nightstand, where it sits all night, and in the morning I sit up in bed, grab the jar, unscrew the lid, and drink down the water before I start my words.
The Reward
This has the same reward as starting the day with green tea with lemon or hot water with lemon did, rehydrating and priming the body and all that. That's not the best part, though. Whereas the previous version had a horn and tails effect, this version has a halo effect. I don't know what it is, but stopping on my way to bed to fix the lemon water interrupts my momentum enough that I now actually, huzzah, floss and brush my teeth. And practice standing on one foot with my eyes closed while I'm brushing my teeth. And wash my face, and put on my anti-wrinkle cream that I haven't been at all good about and have had a little anxiety lately about regretting when I finally do get wrinkles someday, and—I'm not even done yet!—doing a small set of stretches before I get into bed.
Status: DEACTIVATED
