Not Morning Girl

The wife shook me urgently awake. “Don’t you have to work today??”

I sat bolt upright in bed. “Shit!” It’s been a while since I forgot to set an alarm. Usually doesn’t matter as I seem to wake about the right time anyway. I leaned over to give the wife a smooch, but “not morning girl” was already sound asleep, back into whatever dream she was having.

I rolled out of bed, put on some coffee, and hit the shower. Drying off afterwards I noted the Big Orange Cat eyeing me sleepily from his usual place on the bed between our pillows. That was important somehow…but I couldn’t figure out how at the moment.

I grabbed for some socks and underwear and stumbled into the living room. Flipping on the tube to check the traffic report I grabbed for my coffee and began to rapidly dress. It’s a particular talent…to simultaneously sip coffee WHILE you’re putting on your underwear…

The TV was weird. There was no traffic. There was no news. Rather, some infomercial was trying to sell me some oxygen generator or sleep therapy thing. I flipped to another channel. It was a talk show hosted by some singer I vaguely recognized.

What the heck?

Then I realized what the location of the Big Orange Cat meant…see…as soon as I’m up in the morning he’s quite verbal about asking me to let him out for his dawn patrol. If I’m not up by 0-stupid-30 (4:30am or so) he’s not shy about telling me to get my ass out of bed to let him out. He takes his dawn patrol quite seriously.

But it wasn’t time for a dawn patrol. Or a traffic report. Warily I eyed the clock, trying to focus on the sleep blurred red numbers.

2:27. Yes, that’s AM. Sigh. “Not Morning Girl’s” dream was apparently that I was late for work.

Oh…and as I’m climbing back into bed she mumbles, “You’re home late…”

I’ll see you on the road.

CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer

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