I am a morning person

... but my husband is NOT.

I feel like the morning is the best time to accomplish things. I like to creep around when no one else is awake and do chores like a little house gnome. Plus, if you do it first thing in the morning, then you don't have to spend all day thinking about how you need to do it later. For example, today I've already cleaned the kitchen, run five miles, and completed a project at work. So now I can sit here all leisurely-like, writing this blog instead of giving myself a headache thinking about how much shit I have to do later. YOU SHOULD TRY IT SOMETIME!

But, living with a non-morning person has its downsides. Here is how a typical morning goes in our apartment:

5:30AM: My alarm goes off. I like to snooze it once, just for five minutes, and then read whatever emails have come through during the night. This wakes me up enough to actually get out of bed.

Next, I head into the kitchen to fire up the coffee maker. As soon as he's chugging away, I get to work on the dishes in the sink. Our standard operating procedure at home is to put the previous night's cooking pots into the sink and fill them with soap and water to soak. That way, I can clean then in two seconds the next morning instead of taking ten minutes to do it the night before while the food is still all stuck on there.

Then it's time to start getting ready for work. Luckily for Jesse, I shower in the other bathroom on the far side of the apartment, so I can make as much noise as I want while washing my hair. As you can imagine, I take full advantage.

Then I creep into the master bathroom to brush my teeth and take my morning birth control pill. After all, we may be married now but there's still a lot of beers I want to try before getting myself knocked up. So I take a quick sip of water and swallow the little fella down.

For my finale, I have to change into my work clothes. The dresser is right by the bed, so I make sure to open my drawers as quietly as possible.

Phew, I think I was quiet enough. Now to just put the pants on ...

I always wondered how it could be that couples find themselves sleeping in separate bedrooms. I think I'm starting to understand.

Aww, I love him though. And don't get me started on those days when he gets up before me and sits on the edge of the bed to put on his boots. It's like trying to sleep through a bloody earthquake.



CHRIST ON A CRACKER. ENOUGH WITH THE BOOTS ALREADY.

I swear he does it on purpose. I swear it.