this and that cont.

It is 7:58 in the morning, a time that used to be 8 oclock before digitals, and I am on my fourth cup of tea, the last one in the pot. I've been up since 5:30 which has something to do with having gone to bed at 8 or maybe it was 7:58 last night. It was dark when I rolled out of bed and not wanting to wake my sleeping beauty I tip-toed downstairs to read awhile and await the light. (I first wrote "await the dawn" but it sounded too much like a guy in a foxhole readying for an attack. There is dread in the phrase) It's chilly in the mornings so I had grabbed my sweats from the hook on the bathroom door and put them on before heading for the downstairs couch. I didn't make it to the beckoning sofa right away though. I noticed the pile of pots, pans and dishes in the drain basket, the undisturbed coffee pot and the unmade tea. I set about putting the first away, starting the second and boiling water for the third. (Darn exciting stuff here, eh? Too bad. You are my family and you have to listen when I feel like babbling.) When I finally made it to the couch I stretched out prone, pulled a blanket over me, propped the book "Wolf Boy" on my chest and realized the light was insufficient. Mumbling or was it muttering, there's a fine line there, something that would have been profane years ago, but which I have now shortened to unintelligible sounds that vaguely suggest something German like "frankenzee flueggin plotzer", I kicked the blanket off, sat up, turned around and placed the lamp on a pile of Spanish textbooks so the light from it would shine more directly onto Wolf Boy. I then resumed my formerly comfortable position on the couch. I got a page, maybe a page and a half read, just enough to get my mind locked in with the wolf kid and away from the real world when Gus came rattling down the stairs to announce he wanted to go out for his morning romp. How he does this is to stare at the door until it opens. There is no bark, scratch, whine, whimper, nothing. If we are not immediately attentive, he lies down and stares. I should have such patience. This morning, however, as I was right there, he added to his routine the further act of stareing at me. Stare at the door. Turn around. Stare at me. "Getztorgen fleishten housen." I kick off the blanket again, stomp over to the door and let the mutt out. He's not even grateful. Gives me one of those it's about time looks. I prop open the door with the two bricks we have right there for that purpose, because Gus will scratch away and carry on wildly to get back in if the door is closed. Dogs, go figure. I return again to my warm, inviting, foam filled couch with the light just right and my head positioned perfectly on the throw pillows and what's that I hear? You guessed it...or not, the tea kettle is whistling its happy tune. I scramble over to turn it off before it shrills and wakes Charly. What the hell, it's light now. I head upstairs with teapot, cup, spoon and milk carton juggled successfully, to read the morning sports news, answer emails and ignore all current events having to do with further Bush atrocities. I like to leave them for Charly so she gets them fresh and unused. That way she is the first to know and can tell me about them with the proper amount of outrage. I always get it wrong.

It's after 9 now and I should be getting...something. Motivated I suppose. I have become very lazy after being sick for so long. I've lost all my good habits and I'm finding it difficult to overcome my lethargy and get cracking again. The weather is not helping. It has been rainy season like and it's too early for that. No matter, I'll get back in the groove eventually. My OCD side insists.

So there you have my morning. How's yours?


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