The Same Thing Happens Every Morning.

Usually.

A quick aside; since I know spicy Cuban Mo is horrified by my carpooling, I'm going to distract her with this:



Oooo...pretty yarn.... Btw, I got this image from a lovely blog: http://needled.wordpress.com/page/23/ You know, in case one wanted to go see pretty knitting pictures rather than read what I've typed here.

No, this has nothing to do with today's yammering. I just thought it was easier than saying, "Look! Something sparkly!"

Anyway. Morning routine.

Almost every workday morning, Roommate will get up around 0515. I know. Even the Omnipotent Comedian is still asleep. But she will get up, cross the hall and open the door to my room, releasing the terrier to join the beagles. They will all go outside and do their business. Then she will let them back inside and they will rush my bedroom like an offensive line of football players at a quarterback. After leaping up on my bed, the dogs will receive their good-job cookie. Roommate will leave, shutting the door behind her. Then there's the obligatory settling in period.

Tuppence Marie will recline against a pillow, near my head, like the Queen of Sheba she is. Maddie, the eleven year old beagle, will press herself to my side or back, depending on my position, so long as she is as close as caninely possible to a body. Bailey the Beagle Boy [Excuse me, are those Beagle Boy jeans you're wearing? We thought so.] will nose his way under the covers and find bare flesh, against which he will press his cold and wet feet and nose. A faint hissing sound and a yowl from owner of flesh often accompanies this move. Then all four of us get an extra 20-30 minutes of sleep while Roommate gets ready for the day.

After far too little time, Roommate will open the bedroom door again and announce breakfast. For the dogs. In the ensuing melee, absolutely no concern for the owner of the bed is shown by the canine companions as they scramble to the kitchen, kicking and stepping on the non-dog member of the party. Muffled and unintelligible moaning/grousing is often heard.

Five to fifteen minutes later, Roommate will employ secondary measures to get me up. These include yelling, a shrieking teakettle, crowbars and small volumes of TNT. I drag myself out of my bed, assemble myself to the best of my ability and get to the car. There, my purse, my computer bag and a travel cup of tea wait for me. This is what usually happens.

This morning, however, was a little different. Roommate...fell back asleep.

Fortunately, Tuppence Marie set an alarm on her Blackberry.