Last night my husband told me that he would be sleeping in the guest bedroom because he didn't want me waking him up early. Granted, it makes sense I suppose. He has a show tonight, and wants to get his rest so he can perform. On the flip side, I have a corporate gig and rise early so I can lumber my way into the office that is roughly 20 feet from our bedroom, where I will sit and work for roughly 8 hours.
It's Friday. I love Fridays because I know that at the end of whatever kind of day it will be at work today (crazy, busy, easy-listening), that tonight I will get to relax and stay up late, knowing that I can sleep in tomorrow. Fridays make me excited. Fridays bring out the best type of weirdo in me. Unfortunately, since my husband cannot experience my elation at it being Friday, because he's chosen to sleep in the other room, it means that my level of weird….well, it rose a few levels this morning.
No one but the dog is around to witness me dancing through the kitchen in my nightshirt.
It's me and the coffee maker doing a rather fascinating dance, but wait, now the blender is joining in….I start to sing. "Making' a smoothie! Ban-na-na-na-nas! Blueberries, blackberries, almond milk and ice! Oh it's rather nice!"
At this point the dog runs upstairs. She obviously cannot handle all of THIS.
It occurs to me that my husband, Georgie, would LOVE to hear this song. But I know that there is a slight chance that he would not want to be woken up by me throwing open the bedroom door and belting out the fruity smoothie song. So I don't do that.
Instead I sing it as I walk up the stairs and past the bedroom door. For good measure, and because the song is really grooving with my soul, I begin to gyrate in front of the bedroom door.
Maybe he doesn't like the song. He is a professional after all. So I switch it up, make it more personal to him.
"Oh Georgieeeee, am I disturbing your peaceful sleep? Are you enjoying pleasant dreamsssss? Are you dreaming of a supermodel? Cause I love youuuuuu, and I will cut a bitch. Just kidding, you can have your dreams. John Mayer was in miiiiiiiine! OOOOOHHHHHHH!"
I feel bad that he's missing this. I stop and listen for movement. I hear nothing, not even a rumble or a snore. Surely he's not awake and ignoring me. He must still be sleeping.
Dejected but not entirely, I move the party into my office. It's amazing how entertaining I am…to myself.
Work calls, and so I sit and jump into emails.
I hear the bedroom door open and the sounds of Georgie grunting his way into the bathroom. I think, So much for sleeping, wonder why he's awake so early.
He grunts his way into my office. I look up from emails. He looks…a touch…upset.
Can't be helped. Some people are just not morning people.