The alarm clock goes off. It’s a liar. Every morning it’s the same thing: MORE LIES! It’s not 5 a.m. Probably more like 4 or 4:30. Cruel trickster. Hit snooze. Go back to sleep. I want my hour back.
Alarm clock goes off again. It’s 6 a.m. No longer so sure it was lying to me. Who thinks that?!? Quite a hole I’ve dug for myself. Precious little time to go running, get cleaned up, make a kid’s lunch, eat, walk a dog and get the whole family off to where they’re supposed to be — school and work. So stupid of me! Oh well. Hit snooze. Go back to sleep.
Alarm clock goes off at 6:15. GET UP!
Must get dressed to go running … quickly. In delirium of rising (but not shining), I face the wrong way in a dark closet. Wife’s workout clothes put on by mistake. Tight yoga pants and a pink sports bra. Feeling lazy. Consider wearing it. No, no. Skin tight pants make my butt look like overripe melons. Change immediately.
Dressed. Head downstairs … quietly. Have to. Because if dog wakes up, it will add an extra 32 hours to getting out the door. This occurs to me. It occurs to me right as I topple headfirst over the sofa. Stupid darkness! I land on the ottoman with a crash.
Dog emerges. She seems very concerned: “Is it breakfast time yet?” I tell her, “Go back to bed.” She takes this as her cue to pick up the squeakiest toy in the house. The kind that blows out windows with the faintest touch. I tell her, “Put it down … put it down NOW!” There’s a slight mix-up in the message. She thinks I said, “Sure, I’d like to play. Now run around the house like you’re on fire.”
She chomps down the on the toy relentlessly. It sounds as if bagpipe-playing demons are being mauled to death in an accordion.
“Get out, filthy dingo!” I demand, opening the door. But she just stands there. There’s a look on her face. It seems to be saying, “Can you see if the ground is cold and dew-y? I’m not a big fan of cold and dew-y.”“Out!” I bark.
She goes out. A few precious minutes later she comes back in. There are woodchips dangling from her mouth and a funny odor emanating from the general vicinity. I triage the situation: No one knows about this but me. She looks mighty happy with herself. I don’t have time to brush her teeth. Let’s just pretend this never happened. See ya!
I finally head out the door myself. Down the street for my run. I tell myself how great this will be. How desperately I need it. How it will help to relax me and get the day started right. Look the moon’s still out. How beautiful! Now this is how you start a day. In the light of the moon I glance at my watch … DUNG BEETLES! I only have 13 seconds to run 5 miles! At the end of the block, I turn and head home. “Boy, that sure felt great,” I say. My heart’s not in it.
A flurry of activity erupts. A mind-blowing dust storm of multitasking. I spread a peanut butter sandwich while in the shower. I feed the dog while brushing my teeth. I search for a drink box in the fridge. I climb into the fridge to find it. It isn’t there. IT ISN’T THERE! I have only 10 minutes left. Not enough time! No one else in the house is up. No one but the dog. She wants to go out. Says she has some “business” to attend to. But she’s still concerned about the cold dew-y ground. Do I have some booties?
“Out!” I bark.
Wake up! Wake up! Pretzels in the lunchbox. I drink a bagel through a straw. Underwear on backwards. Not again! Worry about that later. Must walk the dog … Must get to kindergarten … Must get to work. Wake up! Wake up!
“President’s Day?!? What do you mean it’s President’s Day?!?” My jaw drops. DUNG BEETLES! “You’re saying I’m the only one who needs to get ready?!?”
I never should have listened to that alarm clock. I hate that alarm clock! Off to work. Late again. Catch my breath. Get ready. Tomorrow morning it all starts again.