I know it’s going to be an odd sort of day when I wake up at 5:00, take the girls (our dogs) out to do their thing, put coffee on and glance at the clock only to see it is now 4:15. The crisp morning air got the old ticker going, the girls are wide awake ready for breakfast and my coffee is almost finished. No going back to bed now. I fill the dog’s bowl with food, take it to the bathroom and stand there wondering, “Why am I here?” Three dogs gather at the door looking me quizzically. Probably thinking the same thing. Now come on, I’m not the only one out there who’s taken dirty dishes into the laundry room and stood there in total confusion for a moment. Anyway, the dogs get their food, I fill my cup with java and head for the computer.
You know how when you start to dribble a beverage, you keep dribbling it? A trail of coffee now marks my path all the way into the other room. I try to gently set the cup down on my desk, but my finger glues itself to the handle and I proceed to slosh it all over the place. My Pomeranian, who adores coffee (cream, no sugar), abandons her breakfast and follows closely behind me, quickly lapping up every single drop before I can get to it. Spunky Pom’s and caffeine are not a good mix.
Since I had an hour or so to blow before my husband woke up, I decided to play a little bingo online. It’s something to pass the time when I’m not in the mood to use my brain. A few games in I am finally close to a bingo, the sneezes set in and I have no clue what numbers I’ve just clicked. So much for that.
Soon it’s time to wake my husband. I could have left the alarm set, but I get a kick out of letting the dogs wake him. “Okay girls, Go Get Dad,” and the race is on! Three little dogs bolt up the stairs, barking and snarling at one another to be the first to reach the bedroom. Then it really gets loud. Imagine being jolted from a deep sleep by that ruckus. My husband is never very appreciative of this rude awakening but hey, it keeps me from having to go up there.
We have/need only one vehicle, so each morning I drive (okay saying ‘my husband’ is getting old) ‘Jim’ to work. I don’t even bother to get out of my jammies for this excursion. It’s 7 o’clock in the morning. At least I have something on.
I come home and climb into a comfy pair of sweats. But something just doesn’t feel right. Kind of bulgey. Ah, once again I’ve put the bottoms on backward. I practically tear them off in frustration and look up to see my neighbor coming down his back steps on his way to work. I’m standing half-naked in front of the patio door and he waves at me. I smile and wave back thinking, “What?”
I do hope the rest of this day is not quite so entertaining.