Around 6:30, he gently nudged me and asked if I wanted to wake up.  We have the loudest, most obnoxious alarm clock anyone could have, but I still didn’t hear it. I was immersed in a really weird dream I can’t remember.  I know I spent most of the dream upset and right before he woke me up, there was one of those run-down pick-ups with plywood used to form sides in the back and a bunch of weird circus toys piled up and spilling out of the top, like a cartoon or something.  I don’t know what it was there for, but it’s the only thing I remember.

It sets the tone for the whole day when you wake up with a start like that.  I wasn’t in a panic, per se, but it definitely wasn’t the way I wanted to wake up. I was hoping the alarm would go off, we’d curse at it, then curl up and sigh the lovers sigh and then we’d hear birds chirping and the sun would come peeking through the windows.  My pre-programmed coffeemaker would be perking and bubbling, I’d do my Pilates and the day would begin. Ahhh.

Instead, I woke up all heart-racing and cranky.  Then, because one of our toilets doesn’t work (a part is on order) and he was in the other bathroom, I nearly peed on the floor while I fumbled to shut off the blaring alarm clock.  Then I weighed in and despite doing well all week, the fell off the wagon on the weekend and gained a pound.  So, after grinding my coffee beans and getting that going, since I forgot to set the program, I did my Pilates and nearly killed myself on the Seal.

I refuse to let the way I woke up effect my whole day.  Looking at the bright side, I’ve got a hot cup of coffee, it’s quiet, save my Launchcast music, I’ve got a Low Impact & Sculpt class on my lunch break and I’m grilling lean porkchops and asparagus for dinner, which he loves.

Ain’t Suzy Homemaker a bitch?