I Am Not A Morning Person

5:30 a.m., alarm goes off. Get up; pee, brush teeth, floss. Get on scale. (Shit) Walk out to hallway, pause and listen for sound and smell of coffee brewing with clever use of timer? (Yay!) Cross fingers, peer out front window, newspaper is here? (Yay!) Retrieve paper, let dog out. Pour cup of coffee. Let dog back in. Scan front page. (Possibility remains of two children missing since 2004 have been found. Say a prayer for their mother.) Change into gym clothes; grab paper and coffee, head to gym.

Workout. Return home. Pour second cup of coffee. Go to take shower. Bedroom door still closed (GAAAHHH!), Saint has over slept again. Try to quietly remove gym clothes. No dice, Saint awakens and dashes into shower first. (GAAAHHH!) Wait turn and shower. Run down to start load of laundry. Run back up and fix hair. Precious Youngest is up and around, looks peeved and distracted (??!!) Go to kitchen to pack lunch. Try to distract Precious Youngest with discussion of shopping for Homecoming dress. Lackluster response. (Crap, high school drama must be in full swing.) Back to bathroom to spackle put on face. Peer in magnifying mirror. (Fuck, is mustache already growing back? GAAAHHH!) Stand in closet and realize there is nothing to wear. Keep standing there until Precious Youngest comes in to say goodbye. Hug her, tell her you love her and to have a good day. (Again with the lackluster? Something definitely going on there, but how to get her to spill?)

Throw on stupid outfit have worn four hundred times. Clean bathrooms. Run downstairs and switch laundry from washer to dryer. Back to kitchen. Put dinner in crock-pot, dishes in dishwasher, cell phone in purse, lunch in bag. Where's the dog? Grab cereal to eat in car on way to office. 8:00 a.m. pull out of driveway.

Monday Morning 8 – Me 2