The first ninety seconds after waking belong to nobody. You are not assembled yet. Whatever surfaces in there, a deadline, an argument, a flat dread with no subject attached, did not get chosen and is not a report on your character.
What happens next is more yours. Somewhere between the alarm and the kettle the day acquires a tone, and that tone is usually set by whatever you looked at first.
A window is a better first thing than a phone. So is a person, if you have one, or a dog, or the plain fact of what the weather is doing.
None of that guarantees a good morning. It just means the morning was not handed straight to whatever was waiting.