I Am Not a Morning Person

I think I hear the noise again. . . .it's an annoying noise. . . . it's like a buzzing noise. Once again I tune it out.

Now I hear the noise again, only this time, there is a voice with it. I decide to open the window shades of my brain just enough to see what all the commotion is about. The annoying noise is the alarm, and the voice belongs to my wife. She seems to be saying something to me.

Somewhere in the back of my brain, a neon sign is flickering. It reads, "Just hit the snooze button". This sounds like a very good idea.

I still here the noise of the alarm. And my wife seems to be still saying things, only she seems to be getting a little more annoyed, or at least that's what it sounds like.

I decide to actually open an eye to see what in the world is causing my wife to complain, and the snooze button not to work.

I open an eye and turn my head to discover that the snooze button isn't working because I'm not hitting the snooze button, and my wife is complaining because I'm hitting her forehead as if it was the snooze button.

"Why is your stupid head where the stupid snooze button should be?", I grumble as I painfully get out of bed and wrap myself in the blanket like a robe.

As I head downstairs I hear my wife once again complaining. Something about a jerk stealing the blanket.

As I enter the kitchen, I nearly trip to my death on the cat who is still sleeping blissfully. Not just sleeping blissfully, but sleeping blissfully and smirking. Smirking because she is still sleeping blissfully while I get up and go earn money to feed her flea bitten carcass. I throw the cat outside.

I go into the bathroom and sit down on the toilet. A few minutes pass. I try to remember if I went to the bathroom or not. I cant' remember so I stand up. I then realize that I probably didn't go to the bathroom, for in spite of the fact that I did make it to the toilet and sat down, I still had the blanket wrapped around me like a burrito. So had I actually went to the bathroom, there would probably be some evidence of it inside the burrito. I take off the blanket and sit back down.

I go back into the kitchen to make a piece of toast, but I can't find the bread anywhere. This angers me greatly, and I begin muttering unkind words to whomever it was who lost the bread.

"What are you muttering about?" my wife calls down from the bedroom.

"SOMEONE LOST THE STUPID BREAD!!"

"It's in the bread drawer" she answers.

I can hear her smirking,as I open the bread drawer to find the bread.

"Stupid place for the bread. . . ." I mutter as I put a piece in the toaster.

A few minutes later, my toast pops up. Only it isn't toast, it's a piece of black lava rock. Burnt to a crisp, and shot up from the belly of hell.

"You did that on purpose!" I sneered as evilly as possible.

"What are you muttering about now?" my wife calls down.

"Nothing!! I was talking to the toaster!" I answer. I can hear the toaster smirking.

I manage to find a pair of pants and head out to my truck. I get in my truck, but then realize that it is nearly impossible to put on a pair of pants while inside the truck. I step back out of the truck and put my pants on. The neighbor gives me an odd look as he pulls out of his garage. I can hear him smirking.

I finally make it to the coffee shop where heaven awaits. An extra large dark roast and a honey crueller. Like a marathon runner at the finish line, the coffee and donut mark the ending to yet another morning.

I am not a morning person