It’s That Kind of Day
I woke up twenty minutes earlier than usual this morning and thought “cool; now I’ll have more time to relax before work”. The universe heard my proclamation and thought “oh, hell no”.
Minutes into my bathroom routine, The Girl implored upon me to blow-dry and braid her hair which took up ten minutes of my extra time.
The Man-Cub then informed me that the cat had puked on the carpet downstairs, the cleaning up of which took an additional five minutes of my extra time.
As I was wandering around our bedroom in my underwear, searching for something to wear, Hugh gave me The Look, the one that couples have for telegraphing that they want to spend some “Special Adult Time” together and I was all Hell to the No because I only had five extra minutes left and damned if I was going to waste it on Wii bowling.
Well, what did you think I meant?
Anywaayy, my coffee filter split at the seam and I ended up with grounds in my café au lait, I thought I had one last packet of oatmeal for breakfast but, alas, did not and, the jeans I planned to wear are suddenly too big on me (I know, cry you a river) and thus make me look like I am carrying a load in my backside.
I’m starting to think that getting out of bed early was a curse; you can bet I won’t let it happen again.