Oh, then is this the way it's going to be? One of those days? Sleep in? Stare at the computer blankly? For half an hour? Even though I only HAVE half an hour to write this post?
This is how it is: I get up before the alarm, about 5:30. I let the dog out. First. Even before I go to the bathroom because if I don't she whines and spins and wakes everybody else up. I do not want everybody else up. I want to pee in private. I want to WRITE in private.
I make coffee. This requires nerves of steel. Trying to dump yesterday's moldering grinds into the trash whilst dealing with slitty eyes? (not shitty; not slutty; get it right) Not good.
I turn on the computer and scan through e-mails, Facebook and blogland while the coffee burbles. By the time it's ready I have to be writing because I hear the alarm go off and that means Dave is going to be headed for the bathroom. Dave is a bath guy. He soaks in the tub for 35 minutes every morning. Precisely. THAT is the time I blog. That is ALL the time I have to whip up a blog post. Because when he's out of the tub he wanders out to the kitchen, where I am, and turns on the TV and starts TALKING to me. He has the nerve to want a kiss, too. A KISS! And he's making BREAKFAST and he's making NOISE and he just turned up the TV volume because Jeff is saying something funny on Canada AM and Bev and Marci are laughing and thus I'm cranking my neck around to see what's so damned hilarious ... and feck. There goes my morning.... might as well throw in the fecking towel, blog-wise.
Cause I have to go over to the couch now, and sit with my husband, because I like him and want to see what's new, and then he goes to work at 7:10 a.m. Precisely. When he's gone, the moment he's out the door, I have this to do: exercise, bathe, get dressed, eat, pack lunch and get my arse to work. It's like a freaking MARATHON. And god help me if something gets in my way. On Monday I had just finished a particularly sweaty work-out when the power went out. There was enough water in the pipes to dampen a facecloth – THAT's the kind of bath I had. The very second I finished wiping all my stinky spots, the fecking power came back on. Fine. THANK YOU ONTARIO HYDRO.
So anyway, it's 6:58.
The TV is blaring.
Dave is talking to me.
Must. Push. Publish....
Oh feck. Did I forget to let the dog in? I was wondering why my toes were dry.
