Hello 6 a.m., my old friend

What's better than an alarm clock? A 9-month-old.
M has been consistently waking up with the sun, and if {when} it gets earlier, I might cry—pitiful, huge tears into a pillow as I curl into the fetal position in my bed and contemplate turning off the monitor and pretending I'm deaf.
Healthy sleep habits make for a healthy person, as I've read recently and remember learning sometime in college (and that's another topic for ridicule, because who sleeps properly in college?) but my nightly OCD has been repeatedly tearing my brain from my spinal cord so when M falls asleep I kick into "Clean & Conquer" mode.
There might be a dryer load of laundry waiting to be folded and put away, and I guarantee there's too much pug hair on my floor. And how many places can Cheerios end up after a baby has "eaten" them? So far, all throughout the first floor of my home, as the ants have attested to.
There's a pile of mail that needs attention since I {finally} picked it up and there might be a bill in there which reminds me that I've lost my debit card, UGH!
So I go out to the pickup to look for it which leads to discovering some of M's clothing and blankets underneath something—a welding mask?!—that is dirty and dusty and disgusting, so back to that laundry. It's already later then I wanted to be up but there are more of M's clothes in various places around that must be put in her laundry basket so I don't lose my mind.
The fish still need fed and lately I've had to make sure both cats are inside because we've been getting awesome thunderstorms, which I love and my hubby and cats don't love. The porch light is still on {thanks hubby} and the kitchen nightlight is still off {thanks hubby} so I have to remedy that and then finally get to go upstairs.
Zora is mewing pitifully so she gets clean water {when was the last time I got a drink?} and my iMac is in the same room as her dishes so how could I resist checking Facebook, Pinterest, Twitter and every other Internet addiction I have just one more time before bed? Nope, can't.
My teeth need attention and I won't forsake that, so I wash my face too {I was in there already right?} and finally I get to change into PJs and shove hubby's dirty clothes in the hamper at the same time {since he missed it playing clothes basketball from the bed}.
By this time it's at least a two hours since M went to bed and sleep is oh so slow to come for those of us who have overactive minds.
So when my precious alarm clock starts murmuring at 5:50 a.m. and that monitor button is looking tempting, I'm thinking she'll probably live just ten more minutes.
Right?