The Morning After

You know how in the morning before the sun rises and you’re groggy cuz you finally took a Xanax to get some sleep? And your alarm goes off and you smack at it blindly and crack your hand on something hard that’s not the clock and you cuss yourself awake, even though you yearn for those extra nine minutes of snoozing? And now that’s not possible so you pitch yourself out of bed, except your feet are all tangled up with your sheets and your blankie foot warmer so your head craters a hole into the carpet? And as you dangle upside down, you wonder if you broke your neck? And you kick and squirm to extricate your feet and when you’re finally free, you’re satisfied that you got in an early workout? And you cuss as you limp across ice-cold Travertine toward the bathroom in the dark?

And you know when you sit your bare butt on a frigid toilet that feels weird somehow, and it dawns on you that your foot is strangely wet? And you cuss while flipping on the light, which is like a punch to your eyes, and you squint at a smashed cat turd on your heel while realizing that some male didn’t lower the toilet seat and your thighs are making friends with all kinds of organisms that should never contact human skin? And your stomach lurches as you beeline it toward the shower like you’re dragging a club foot?

And you know how you get into the shower and your arm loops through the bendy hose of your handheld Waterpik showerhead and you gasp and flinch, thinking a ghost has just grabbed your arm, until the showerhead then plummets from its little overhead slot, right onto your head? And you cuss and slump to the bottom of the shower stall and through your tears you see that your foot still has doo on it and the ick melting off it is swirling around the drain, which is also precariously close to your hoo-ha? And you finally get all lathered up and say, “I’d rather look like an orangutan than shave anything right now?”

And you know how you reach for your towel and discover it’s wet from god knows what, but certainly something to do with those bad, bad children you live with? And you cuss and step out in search of a dry towel, when your phone rings and you lunge to answer it because at 6:45 a.m. it might just be the new hottie your buddy introduced you to? And your boss is on the other end of the line and she says, “Don’t bother coming in to work today? Because it’s a SNOW day? In Austin, Texas? Woo-hoo!

Now that's how to start off your day!

Okay, that last part? That snow-day phone call? Totally didn’t happen, though it's snowing right now outside my office window and NOW they are going to send us home. Oy.

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