Yesterday, I was rudely awakened before the sun.
My husband’s giant feet in his giant shoes clomp-clomp-clomping around the bedroom.
Then a light.
“What are you doooooing?”
(I’m whiny in the morning, I bet you didn’t guess.)
I don’t know what he said exactly, cause earplugs, but I heard the tone.
He came in again.
He said things again.
“You lost your phone?” I asked. Earplugs.
Then it was just a lot of yelling, probably swearing, and I looked at my phone, blink, blink, distance, blink. I didn’t have glasses on, so I asked, “Does that say it’s 5:49?”
I don’t know what he said, but again with the tone.
Have I ever mentioned what a miserable summbitch The Mister is in the morning? First light, he’s militant and I’m a whiny little bitch and I really don’t know how we’ve made it this far.
There was a bad news text on my phone. It was right there, just waiting for me to wake up. Fabulous. There’s nothing like waking up early to bad news. Why don’t we just turn the heat up to 105 and put some fire ants in my bed, hmm?
The Mister found his phone.
Then we just sat on our bed, maudlin, angsty. Did a lil grooming. Sat on the bed again. We yawned a lot. I chided him for his behavior, he nodded agreeably. Our pets came to greet us. They probably thought it was ‘that one weird dark weekend’ or something.
I made coffee.
I had my blues out, ready to don, but I needed cotton in the worst way. I needed big comfy cotton, so I wore my biggest sweater, a zip-up cardigan thing — kinda creamy colored — oversized collar covers half my shoulders — so roomy it easily adds thirty unflattering pounds to your frame — you’d get one for your granny and she’d love you for it.
I went out into the world and made it through the day but yeah, that was a Tuesday all right.
Wednesday — Let’s shall, shall we?
Bring me the moon. No, I don’t have a lasso.