Thank goodness for husband gently shaking me awake this morning. If he hadn’t, I swear I would still be in bed; dead to the world.
In fact, this is the case most mornings…
Every day is a blur from when I try valiantly to force my eyes to open at around 7.30 (ish – thank you snooze button), until the point where I’m sitting at my desk as the minute just ticks past 9…and even then there’s plenty of melodramatic yawning and eye-rubbing.
Somehow, I am always running late – usually because time magically disappears in the shower. One second I’m stepping in, and the next I’m looking at the clock 20 minutes later thinking ‘what the heck happened there? I really need to get out!’. Or I’ll get distracted by the radio – I’m nodding along to a tune on 6Music and then suddenly the realisation hits me that actually, the news has already been on, which means that it’s gone 8.30, which means I should be out the door already and I still need to brush my hair and clean my teeth…
At this early hour I am supremely jealous of (and grateful for!) my hubby, who seems able to leap out of bed, greet the day with a smile and even have time to make sandwiches for us both… how is that even possible? We went to bed at the same time; how is he not tired? How is he able to string coherent sentences together? And concentrate enough to put ham between slices of bread without cutting himself?
I suppose now is the time to issue an official apology for every morning that I have taken my sleepiness out on him in a grumpy way: I am very sorry, it’s not you – it is most definitely me. Cheerfulness doesn’t normally start to creep in until at least 11 ish.
But then you know that – you’ve lived with the monster that I am in the morning for a long time now, and still haven’t given up on at least getting a hug before work. Well done you.