4:29am – The birds are singing. THE BIRDS ARE FUCKING SINGING. AT 4:29AM. Get up, close window, curse birds.
4:30am – Can still hear the stupid birds. Get up; turn fan in bathroom on to drown out birds.
4:45am – Still awake. Fan in bathroom is annoying and loud. Curse fan.
4:55am – Can hear birds. And fan. Curse husband for sleeping away peacefully.
5:10am – Curse sunrise.
5:?am – Finally fall back asleep under a blanket of curses and exhaustion.
6:30am – Hear a kid wake up and get out of bed. WHY ARE YOU UP SO EARLY, KID?
Luckily, kid is of the age that waking up early does nothing to impede my
right need desire to sleep longer, so besides a momentary all-caps
rant in my head, I go back to sleep.
7:09am – Kid is whisper-shouting in my face. “Mom. Mom! Wake up! The cat barfed on the couch.”
I decide this is only an unfortunate extension of the not-so-great dream I had been having about being kicked out of bookclub and ending up on a train to Dutton, and turn over.
Kid is back in my face. More whisper-shouting. “MOM! The cat barfed on the couch.”
In my head, I snarl all sorts of rage-y, my alarm doesn’t go off for 20 minutes, why do I even have a fucking cat-type of things, and force myself out of bed. “Ok,” I say, trying to suppress the rage, “let’s go see.”
7:10am – Kid is wrong. Cat has not barfed on the couch. Cat has barfed on the couch, the throw cushion and the rug underneath the couch. More rage.
7:11am – Throw the cat in the sunroom and close all the doors. Curse husband for leaving bulimic cat with too much food. Curse child for not shooing cat off couch pre-barf. Curse cat for existing.
7:15am – Cushions are rid of the more disgusting cat-barf detritus, but stain remains. Haul out steamer. Add water, plug in. Forget to put cap back on water reservoir, spill water out of steamer onto my feet. Curse steamer. Curse wet feet.
7:30am – Cushions, pillows and rug have been steamed. Back up to unplug steamer, trip over kid sitting on floor because couch has cat barf on it. Stumble, right myself. Kid barely notices because AppleJack is about to be eaten by a timber wolf. Curse all the ponies.
7:35am – Make coffee. Hear that alarm is still going off in bedroom. Check on husband, who is still asleep with head under pillow, ignoring alarm. Gently and with love, shout at him to GET UP.
7:37am – Check on coffee. WTF? Realize that coffee will taste better if I put actual coffee grinds in the filter. Start again. Curse coffee, immediately take it back and hope I have not offended coffee gods. Assure each grind that I love and need it.
7:40am – Gently and with love shout at husband again TO GET OUT OF BED, OHMYGOD GET UP ALREADY.
7:45am – Grab school bags from closet, get lunches I make in advance every night from fridge. Remember that I did not make lunches the night before because I was too
busy tired lazy. Curse school.
7:55am – Lunches are made. Hope the kids enjoy their cherry tomatoes, turkey pepperettes and plain melba toast.
8:00am – Feel bad about lunches. Throw in a chunk of cucumber and some chocolate chips.
8:20am – Lunches are packed, sunscreen is applied, hair is braided, breakfast is eaten and coffee is brewing (again). Husband appears. Husband asks why cushions are sunning themselves on the back patio. He is told about the cat barf. Husband clearly has a death wish, so says, “What did you do about it?” Husband backs away as I gently and with love answer, “What did YOU do about it?” Husband smiles his most charming smile and says, “I slept. You are the best wife in the universe.” Husband knows his shit.
8:30am – Kids are off to school, coffee is brewed (again), house is quiet. Wait – not so quiet. What am I hearing? Oh shit! I know that sound! Where is it coming from? It’s in the sunroom. I run towards the unmistakable sound of cat hork. “NO! NO!” I scream, waving my arms, “GET OFF THE CHAIR! GET OFF THE CHAIR!”
8:31am – Too late.