Now that I’ve recovered my sense of humor (sort of), and need to play and learn, you get this post. There should be a “real” post (snort) later. Maybe.
I don’t do mornings.
Seriously. I don’t do mornings. Because of my metabolism and sleep needs, I wake up every morning hung over, with a headache, groggy, and sometimes nauseous. Get between me and my tea and shower, you will lose body parts. Got it?
This morning my cell phone yelled for me. Since the number hasn’t been handed out to the general public, it Must Be Answered. I rolled out of bed, and ignoring the back, neck, and ‘surprise!’ hip that were not happy with me, staggered for the kitchen. As I attempted to go vertical I immediately realised that my sinuses and ears were fluid filled. Since I was lying on my left side I began listing to the left like a drunken sailor and connected painfully with a corner in my hall. Unkind thoughts followed as I straightened up and proceeded to step into a cold, wet, squishy furball. Did I notice? Of course not. I had to take another full step forward with the furball and goo stuck to my sock before the cold, wet, squishiness reached my bare skin. So instead of one gooey spot to clean up, I now had two. More unkind thoughts followed, verbally expressed, as I stripped off my socks. I then gimped forward on the heel of my foot. And the phone call? Wrong Number. How was your morning?