Remember when you wrote down the first thought you had this morning? Great. Now write a post about it.
No, I don’t remember writing down the first thought I had on any particular morning. I don’t think I think when I first wake up.
Waking up is hard to do.
But I can tell you the first coherent thought I had Monday morning, a morning when I don’t have to go to work. I can sleep past 6:30 if I want.
Except for one little thing.
My husband is an early bird. To him, 6:30 means the day’s half over. I heard him get up before 5 a.m, heard him tinkering in the kitchen. Drifted off to sleep again. I’m used to his morning Tigger impersonations, so I’ve slowly become able to ignore them and go back to sleep.
But then, around 6:30, he must have figured I had been sleeping long enough. He started to pound with a hammer on something or the other in the kitchen. Taptaptap pause taptaptap pause taptaptap pause. . . . .
So what was my first coherent thought?
“One of these days, I’m going to taptaptap pause taptaptap pause on his pointed little head, until it’s nice and flat.”
I even have a perfect plan. He’s done for by 7 or so in the evening, when I’m starting to feel really good. So after he nods off while “watching” a TV program, I’ll just wake him up with a gentle but relentless taptaptap pause. . . . .
Would anyone blame me? Seriously.