I don't like it when the alarm on my bedside table goes off every morning at 5:43am. I turn the alarm off in an irritated fashion and fall right back asleep.
I don't like it when my cellphone alarm goes off in the kitchen at exactly 5:58am. I usually try to incorporate the sound into my dream, but eventually, I have to open my eyes. I have to sit up and place my feet on the floor. And then, moaning and groaning from soreness due to last night's workout, I waddle into the kitchen. My house is pitch black. So dark and so quiet. And so perfect for sleeping.
I turn off the alarm. My blackberry alerts me that I have 16 new emails. I don't like that.
I turn on the kitchen light. I turn on the porch light and the entry hall light.
I stand there and look around.
I do a quick inventory to judge whether or not I feel ill in any way, or if there is anything going on with me that would warrant a sick day. Kidneys seem fine. Stomach seems fine. Throat seems fine.
I look at the couch. My fuzzy, snuggly puppy dog is all curled up, sleeping. I would love to be sleeping.
I continue my waddle as I pass through the bedroom on my way to the bathroom.
I stop. My husband is fast asleep in our bed. Our big, comfy, warm, bed. A bed filled with sleep. In our dark, quiet room. He looks so handsome and snuggly and sleepy. And I would love to be sleeping. But alas, I can't.
I go into our bathroom. I turn on the light. I am blinded. I don't like it.
I brush my teeth as the shower water gets hot. I always gag when I brush my tongue. I don't like that.
I shower. It is warm and lulls me back to sleep. I get out of the shower. Not warm. I don't like that.
I put on my robe, wrap my hair in a towel, and step back out into the dark bedroom. I stop and stare as my dog has taken my spot on the bed. He is sleeping. In my spot. I walk over and move him and he just walks over to the foot of the bed, by Grant's feet, and lays back down. Immediately falls asleep.
I imagine that Grant's feet are all nice and warm because Moxie is sleeping on them. I am this close to climbing back in bed. But I don't.
I go into my bright, abrasive kitchen and sit down at the table to spend a few minutes reading my Bible. I like that.
But it must come to an end. Even though I am now very relaxed and calm, I have to go back into the bright, abrasive bathroom to blow dry my hair.
I stop as I walk through the dark, quiet bedroom. Husband and dog are passed out.
I really would like to be passed out.
I blow dry my hair. I plug in the chi.
I put on work clothes and heels. I don't like it.
I chi my hair. Husband's alarm starts going off.
He immediately hits snooze and goes back into the passed out state he was previously in. All curled up by our snuggly dog.
I put on make-up.
I come to the side of the bed, and tell him that I'm leaving. He sits up. Hugs me.
Can't handle it.
I kiss him and then leave.
And sit in traffic. To go to work.
I don't like it.