The Longest Day

The next day it is not so easy to wake up at the crack of dawn. Thank goodness! Maybe it's a combination of staying up a little bit later. Maybe not. You know, it's not so hard to stay up late... well, at least when you are comparing that to waking up early. It is definitely easier to stay up a few hours later than it is to wake up a few (or even just one) hour earlier. Oh brother. I hate Monday mornings. They are the worst. I even read about it in an article one time. It's true. The article claimed that people have more heart attacks on Monday mornings, since they are disturbed so abruptly from their blissful sleep when the obnoxiously irritatingly loud alarm clock goes off right in their ear. It's too much of a shock for them to bear. I have taken this into consideration and tried convincing the hubs that he just shouldn't set his alarm for Monday mornings... at least not at such an early hour. He could go into work a little later, that would be safer than having a heart attack. It's all about the logic. He looks at me and just says sadly, "I wish." pathetic. Darn Monday mornings!

So the alarm continues to honk at us dark and early. My favorite. Actually, half of the time, I don't even hear the loud honking of the alarm. It's the hubs. Poor guy, actually has to get up when it goes off. I just lay in bed and sleep. After he's ready to take on the day I finally get up and shuffle into the kitchen flip on the light and slink back into the dark corner of the room with no lights on. Ah, much better. who needs light anyway? Not me! I have a remedy for that: if a light is on and you don't agree with it, close your eyes. Instant darkness. Unless of course there is a light on then it probably won't be completely pitch black behind your eyelids. But it will be a lot darker than it would be if your eyes were open. It's true. You should try it some time. Anyhow, we have breakfast, lunch gets fixed, and off he goes.

Here comes the hard part. Do I crawl back under the tantalizing covers, close my eyes, enjoy complete darkness, and sleep for another few hours? Or do I stay up, get dressed and start doing productive things? I never can decide. Half of me (okay, more like 99% of me) wants to get back under the covers and snooze for a while yet. But somehow that messily 1% gets a hold of me more frequently than not and I shuffle into the bathroom, flip the switch on and see someone squinting at me with some of the most frazzled hair I have ever seen in my life. It's a little frightening to be completely honest. The squinty eyed person moves her head, rubs her eyes... hey, that's what I'm doing. I wrinkle my nose like a bunny. She does it too! Incredulous that someone has invaded and is stalking me in my own home I reach for my phone to call 911. And I realize that lovely squinty eyed, frazzled hair, bunny nose person is me. Great. Lots of work to to do today. I mean, wow. It's going to take at least five hours to recover from this hideous look I'm currently sporting. Super.

Well, now that I'm awake and somewhat less atrocious looking I pull out a book. I always let myself read in the morning. It makes me happy. I like to read. It gets me in a good mood. Good moods are a good thing. ... a few minutes, or wait, hours later, I feel incredibly uncomfortable and feel a little damp something on the side of my face. woops. I stand up and rub my eyes. Looking in the mirrior I see the mark left on the left side of my face by my notebook. Oh. I must have dozed off... again. brother. This just does not work. I just need to go back to bed after the hubs leaves, it would be way more productive, restful, and a lot less painful and dry than waking up an hour later with a crick in your neck and slobber running down the side of your face.

Welcome lunch time. I thought you would never come! ...Even though I can't recall a single thing I did since breakfast time. eh. oh well. What's it that the French say? Say La Ve? I'm sure that's not it, and I'm sure they have some fancy shamancy way to write it so you can't read it or say it, but I like how it sounds, that I can actually read it, and the meaning I have given it: "oh well!" Prefect! Say La Ve. Peanut butter and jelly, a few chips, and cherries, I sit down at the table with my best friend: a book. At least, that's the only friend I have currently. The hubs is off doing important things, and I just really honestly don't know anyone else. Not even the mail man. A book suits me just fine. ....It's really really quite.

chirp. chirp. tweet. chirp. tweet.

O goodness! Glad that's over with. That was probably the most awkward lunch I have ever eaten in my entire life. I know it's true. whew. Gratefully I move on to homework. O yes. The homework. I hate it. But kind of like it... wait, did I just say, "kind of like it" regarding homework?! What?! That is pure loonyness! I do not like homework. Not one little bit. Nope. You never heard that from me. But hey, I can say it gives me something to do. I plop down on the carpet and get working.

Five minutes later: I'm finished. I wish. Nope. Loads more to do. I keep working. On and on and on it goes. If you were to come in and see me at any given point in the next ten hours you would see exactly the same thing, regardless of when it was... if you came and left, came and left, and came and left again, I would be doing the exact same thing. I wouldn't have moved an inch. I would be sitting on the floor criss cross apple sauce, staring at the computer screen clicking sometimes, sometimes typing, lots of reading. Repeat times infinity; that is what I'm doing. It's true. Come on over and you can see for yourself. No wait. Don't come over. I really wouldn't recommend doing that as it is highly un-entertaining. You would have more fun sitting and watching the paint dry on a wall in the middle of the desert. Really.

After forty-five years pass, the hubs Finally gets home. I don't know if I've ever been as happy to see him (well, that's not true. There have been other occasions where I have been a lot more happy to see him. Like the one time I flew in from Idaho and we hadn't seen each other in like... twenty months! Or the time he flew into Kentucky the day before the day we were supposed to get married, and I hadn't seen him in practically four months! Now that is a long time to go without seeing someone you are supposedly getting married to. Four months may not sound like a long time... but when you are planning to marry someone and you do not see them for a whole four months before the big day... wow. That is a long time. ...and, saying that kind of makes it sound like we didn't get married, we did though, obviously, I'm sure you're bright enough to figure that when I say "the hubs" or "the hunny" I'm referring to the one and only.

Like I was saying, the hubs comes home and I am overjoyed to see him. We fix some food and this time eating is not quite so awkward. Birds, really make very little conversation and what little conversation they do make is not all that great. Plus they think they can just nibble at your food without even asking. It's really pretty disgusting if you ask me. Dinner is nice when you can enjoy the company of someone you like a lot and they don't pick bits of bread from your sandwich as you are eating it.

That was my day. It sounds like I did a whole lot of nothing. Well, that is probably because it's true. I did a whole lot of nothing. ...unless of course you consider doing homework for ten hours something. Which I don't, naturally.

I really hope my days get a little more exciting than this... there's got to be something better than sitting and doing homework in a little box with white walls that are slowly being speckled in some foreign black residue (who even knows?!) ...