It's like this

Here I am, back again for yet another dreary and depressing entry into what is known as my amazingly exciting life. Believe you me, all I tell you is true. I am not making anything up. And I totally understand your feelings of envy, wishing you could be me. But, I'm here to tell you, you can't. It's not easy to be me, and this is why:

  • 7 a.m. I open my eyes. I can hear both kids as they get themselves ready for school. Yes, that's right. They actually get up BY THEMSELVES and get their own breakfast, brush their own teeth, and head out the door for school ON TIME, without nary a blink from their mother. I have clearly trained them well.
  • I close my eyes again because the kids obviously don't need (or probably even want) me around. That way, they can get away without brushing their teeth, can take an extra three helpings of snacks for their lunches, and not have to deal with my fetid morning breath.
  • 8 a.m. Mr.Handsome begins rousing.
  • 10 a.m. Mr. Handsome actually gets up.
  • Just kidding. He's gone to work by then. Probably. Or not.
  • I begin my daily rousing ritual, which includes opening each eye in random order. I try to surprise myself with the variability of my eye opening and closing. You should try it sometime. It's fun, and also wastes at least 10 minutes more of your day.
  •  I finally swing my legs out of bed, and sit on the edge. This takes approximately 30  minutes, because I don't have my contact lenses in yet, so everything I look at is very blurry, so I spend the time trying to guess the time. Then, when I can no longer stand keeping my bladder full, I get up, stumble through the clothing that is tangled on the floor, and make it to the bathroom just in the nick of time. This serves to give me some major excitement to my day. It's almost like playing Russian Roulette, except without the risk of dying.
  • I take a look at myself in the bathroom mirror, cry a little, and then put in my contact lenses. I do not look in the mirror after putting in said lenses. To do so would be extreme cruelty.
  • I slowly make my way downstairs, where Gryphon greets me. I ignore him, unable to meet his eyes as I shuffle off to the kitchen to make myself my Emergency Coffee, aka The First Coffee Of The Day. Without this initial bolus of caffeine, I would be good to no one.
  •  I sit on the couch, oblivious to everything and everyone, slowly sipping my coffee and waiting for my axons and synapses to snap to attention. It takes an hour on a very good day. On a bad day, I remain oblivious, which is probably a better thing. Which then begs me to ask the question, 'Why do I even have coffee if I'm actually BETTER without it?' I have no idea.
  • The highlight of my day is when the garbage man comes by. Sometimes this is made even more exciting by the previous arrival of Carl the Crow, who digs holes in our garbage bags and proceeds to throw the garbage out of the bags, usually just for the simple fun of it. Unfortunately, it's not quite as fun as it used to be because our neighbours who hated us have moved, and our new neighbours don't seem to care that we sometimes have garbage strewn about our lawn for the day. I make a mental note to think up some new ways of irritating them. This might turn out to be more difficult than I hope, since I hate thinking.
  • I pet Gryphon.
  • Gryphon pets me.
  • I like it.
  • After about six hours of this, the kids stumble home from school.
  • And the rest of my day entails telling the kids to be quiet, stop shouting obscenities at one another, make me another coffee, massage my feet, and clean the house. What?
Like I said, I have a tough life.

Next time, I'll tell you all about how I lost my teeth.


    Shannon said…
    Don't forget waste 30 min. talking on the phone to lame friend. ;)
    ReformingGeek said…
    Oh yeah, I want to be you. You have a doggy. ;-)

    See if you can get out of bed in 25 minutes tomorrow.
    meleah rebeccah said…
    Oh, Mary! Im sorry you're still having a rough time.

    I can't see when I get out of bed either. I'm blind as a bat until I put in my contacts.

    I can send you some more snowsuit photos. Will that cheer you up?
    RiverPoet said…
    Oh Mary - you will shake this off. You WILL! Trust me. If I can do it, you can do it. I don't even get the joy of playing Russian roulette with the pee! It doesn't come out until the cath goes in, which takes me getting through that first cup of coffee so that my mind and hands can function. Oh, I like to live on the edge, I do! Threading a glorified straw blindly into a sensitive area? If you get too bored, you can always try that! :-)

    Love ya - D

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