ALL THAT I HAD

What an interesting morning I've had so far. And it's not even 9:00. Firstly, I woke up with my alarm at 5. I keep it set on weekends too because I love to wake up, slam it off, mutter a vulgar phrase directly at the clock, smile wickedly and return to my glorius slumber. Don't often get the chance to actually have that much power over a machine. Turning my back on the thing and tunnelling deeper into warm snuggly blankets is one of life's great pleasures. Especially if I'm able to get back into that wonderful dream I was having when the alarm went off...

So this morning I wake up. Look around the room. It's such a beautiful shade of blue. Poopy painted it the color of my grandson's eyes which I love and the fact that I think of LittleJuJu every time I see it, makes it even prettier. The second thought in my fuzzy head becomes, "Hey wait a minute, the sun is up..." That quickly turns into "OMG, what time is it?" Then "Aw, f---." My weekend friend/weekday foe, the alarm clock, reads 8 am ( I keep the time set 15 minutes head, don't ask me why.) I heave a huge sigh and haul my still-asleep butt out of the warm, soft, wonderful bed. Must call off work. Where is my cell? It's somewhere in the bed, I remember grabbing it off the night stand in the middle of the night to look at the time. Don't have time to look for it. I get socks, undies and jeans on and decide I will call now and finish getting dressed after. Go downstairs, then to the basement where the emergency cigarettes are stashed in the freezer. Grab one. Frantic search for lighter. If I hurry I can get to work by nine. (Remember the Bangles? Susannah was so dam cute, wasn't she?) That will work. Turn TV News on to see if it snowed, as forecasted. Something on the bottom of the screen looked wrong. It's gone now. Need ashtray. Where's the freakin' ashtray? Grab the phone. What day is this? If it's Friday my supervisor will not be there. Who do I ask for? What day is it for gawdsake? Look at the bottom of the tv screen. It's February 11th. That doesn't tell me much. Walk over to Poopy's calendar by the phone on the wall. Eleven. Wednesday. Ok. Something still feels wrong. Damn this cigarette tastes good. Punch in first three numbers on the phone. Wait, that's January I'm looking at on the calendar. Flip it over, drop ashes on the floor. Dammit. What the... February 11 is a Saturday. !!! *Huge sigh of Relief* Ahhhhh...

Feel a rather large smile slowly spreading across my face. It. Is. Blessed. Saturday. :-)))))

I can go back to bed if I like. That is freakin' wonderful! But wait, I'm half dressed, fully awake. Maybe a cup of coffee? But first I'll clean these ashes up off the floor and maybe go see who's online at this ungodly hour. Then maybe I'll tackle that infernal list... and post more later.