I wrote this pre-blog about two years ago. Ah the memories.
As consciousness slowly flickers I hear the distant garbled sounds of something glugging. I lie in my bed listening to the familiar yet-to-be identified sound. The glugging intensifies and just before I hear the splat I realize it not a glugging something but a glugging someone: the cat my husband came with. And in that same instant I know it is not glugging but in fact said cat’s lengthy pre-barf gagging ritual. The splat of her barf hitting the wood floor is quickly followed by a loud thud. The thud is my dog leaping from a dead sleep off the bed to the floor to devour the cat barf before anyone else lays claim to this delectable early morning treat.
Disgusted yet thankful that I will not be stepping in warm barf as get out of bed, I attempt to roll to my right to nudge awake the above mentioned cat owner. My roll is impeded by a lengthy eight year old that has stolen into our bed at some point in the night. My attempted left roll is equally unsuccessful as a result of the eight year olds’ younger sister who has permanently claimed our bed as her own. As I lie there sandwiched between two gently snoring children a thought pushes through the early morning fog, “I could have a cup of tea – ALONE.”
The idea of a few early morning stolen moments makes me giddy but I must remain calm and focused. The problem before me: how to extricate myself from the bed without waking the interlopers. Attempting to climb over the interlopers has failed countless times in the past and I will not make that mistake again. My new plan is bold and AWESOME. As I gently lift the sheet and duvet over my head I simultaneously dig my heels into the mattress and with some previously undiscovered calf strength I pull myself towards the bottom of the bed. I repeat this maneuver working my way to the bottom of the bed where I kick out the tightly tucked sheet and silently drop to the floor like some kind of freaky inchworm ninja.
As I stand, the interlopers remain oblivious to what is afoot. Victory is almost mine. I don’t risk trying to locate my slippers or robe as these comforts are for the weak and less determined. As I move slowly out of the room towards the stairs I step on a tiny piece of Lego that impales my foot. I don’t even flinch. After years of stepping on small plastic objects including Lego, Barbie accessories and loot bag junk, my feet are so heavily callused I am certain I could walk across a flaming pit of lava and feel nothing at all.
As I descend the stairs and enter the kitchen I see my prize. Sensing the awesomeness that was unfolding upstairs the cat owner made my celebratory pot of tea. As I raise the teacup to my lips and gaze across the steaming amber liquid I catch glimpses of the possible pitfalls and land mines that lie ahead in my day. But I smile knowing that none of it matters because as far as this day goes I’ve already won.