Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Save the drama for your mama.

Good grief. What a crazy day yesterday. I hate drama. It is the epitome of uncool. But, I am just not the kind of person who can ignore, forget and move-on. I am way too proactive and way too self-respecting for that nonsense.

Let's move on to greener pastures.

I wish that I had exciting details from the past week to divulge here, but our life alas is not that exciting. Besides, I have been working way too much to leave room for anything out-of-the-ordinary to occur.

The one-car family situation is trudging along quite nicely. Want to hear about it? Ok!

This morning, Hubs sat straight up in bed with a "Dang it!" that jarred me suddenly from my warm and cozy dreamland. It was 545am and he had overslept. He stumbled out of bed, mumbling something about "Babe, its 545am. You need to get up. We have to go."

I answered "Ok. I'm getting up," in my head. Who knows if I actually said it out loud, but I definitely acknowledged him from some form or other of consciousness.

I heard him in the kitchen and the familiar screech of the coffee grinder. I rolled over onto his side of the bed that is always so warm and so much softer than mine. It is my favorite place to go to in the wee hours of the morning to get a few more minutes of my precious shut-eye. I was back to sleep in no time.

But, when Hubs burst back through the bedroom door, showered and wide-awake, I rolled over quickly and opened my eyes, pretending I had been awake all along, and was dressed and ready to go under the heavy covers.

"Babe," he said. "We have to go, now."

"Alriiiight," I said in my most awake voice that I could then muster. "I'm ready!"

I dizzily searched in the dark for my pjs in the unending pile of clothes on our desk. I have xray fingers and can usually locate exactly what I am looking for in no time. Success!

I donned my light blue, fleece pants with huge navy and aqua polkadots all over them and pulled my long sleeve blue shirt over my head. No bra. That is way too early in the morning to have to worry about that hated contraption. I put on my slippers and walked to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my hair. Again, way too early to brush my teeth, especially when my plans were to come back home and crawl right back into bed. Toothpaste equals the end of sleep for me.

I wandered back into the bedroom to put on my ugg shoes and pull on my heavy, knee-length wool coat, as Hubs hurried past me, frantically finishing his morning routine (have I ever mentioned before how methodical Hubs is? There is rarely a variation in any of his daily activities.). I pulled my greasy hair back into a ponytail, put on my glasses and walked out into the kitchen. I grabbed my bag, stuck in my hand and began the frustrating search for my keys. Hubs was literally walking circles around me, grabbing this and that and opening the door, as I walked step by step by step towards the door (read: zombie-like).

I made it out into the hated morning, still-dark air as Hubs unlocked the car doors with his keyless entry. Thank God for that, as my key search had still yet to locate the darn things. By the time I opened the front door and climbed onto the cold leather seat, I had a fingernail on my cross keychain. I gently slid my finger under the cool metal and pulled my keys to safety. Finally!

I turned the ignition. Flipped on the headlights. Buckled my seatbelt. Turned down the blaring 70s rock that sounded tinny and piercing to my sleepy eardrums so early in the morning.  Placed my bag on the floorboard in front of Hubs. Put the car in reverse. Eased onto the gas pedal and watched the rearview mirror with one barely awake eye as the car moved backwards down the driveway and onto the street. That's as methodical as I get.

I backed out of the driveway and a shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the comforting warmth of his side of the bed and the wish to be back there in that cocoon of cotton and down feathers. I think I smiled then in remembrance.

Hubs apologized about the rush. I said, "Its ok."

We didn't talk. Hubs sipped his coffee. I focused very hard on not gunning the gas pedal or slamming on our squeaky brakes. I managed the stop signs, the three red lights that caught us and the slow pokes on their morning drives easily. I actually felt half awake at that point. As I pulled into the hospital driveway, I could see in my mind's eye the huge mass of comforter and blankets and the dark cool room waiting for me at the end of this journey. I pulled up slowly to the out-patient entrance and told Hubs to have a good day. He pecked me on the lips and was off.

I smiled to myself as I rounded the driveway and eased the car down the steep hill and out unto the road. I looked at the clock. 615am.

I had another 2 hours of free time to sleep away. I smiled and accelerated down the street.

1 comment:

  1. So much to say!

    First - you lived in a HAUNTED apartment?!? That is crazy! And awesome. And freaky!

    Second, I do that too - slide over onto Husband's spot on the bed. It's the best place to sleep.

    Third - I am SO GLAD that I'm not the only glasses-and-pajamas clad zombie who drives her husband to the hospital braless. (Granted, this is a rare occasion. But still!)