Last night I set my alarm for 4:30 like every workday morning. I really needed to get up on time because the night before I put, like, EVERY PAIR of pants I own in the dryer and when I have that many jeans in there it always takes two dry cycles. So what I normally do is get up, restart the dryer and go on with my morning routine. Then the last thing I do before I leave is put on my dry, hot jeans before I head out into the cold morning. I love that feeling. The hot pants protect me from the evil cold at least long enough to get into my car and get the heater started…
So last night I set my alarm clock for 4:30… PM! My body woke me up at what I thought was 3:09 on the cable box clock. This happens pretty much every morning, I wake up around 3:00AM, snuggle back into Ben’s warm body and fall back asleep. But this morning I kept starring at the clock because I fell asleep with my contacts in and the damn thing WOULD NOT FOCUS. So I roll over to look at the clock on the nightstand. It says 5:09. Wait. What? The damn cat must have waked across the alarm clock again and pushed the hour button so it’s ahead.. Stupid cat.
I figured better be safe than sorry though, forced a yawn to make my eyes water so my contacts would clear, look at the cable box again… 5:09. DAMMIT!
Okay. So I have two options. Option 1: Start dryer and hope to God the jeans dry the rest of the way in 25 minutes. Option 2: Wear a skirt. And option 2 wasn’t really an option because I’d have called in sick before I wore a skirt. Skirt… blech! *shudder*
So option 1 it is. I run downstairs and start the dryer then run back upstairs thinking I can just blow dry my hair tame enough to be presentable. I do this sometimes when it’s cold and I don’t want to wash my hair in the morning. I just blow it with hot air till it’s mostly tame then flat iron the honery parts. As I look at myself in the mirror for the first time though I want to spit in my own face. I have Pippy Longstocking style braids from yesterday. DAMMIT again!! No amount of blow drying is going to get it straight. And there’s NO WAY that I have enough time to flat iron… So I frechbraid it. And for ONCE I actually like to way my hair looks frenchbraided. The light and dark hair look pretty cool that way all weaved together. SCORE!
Okay, dress from the waist up, brush teeth, deodorant, perfume, makeup. My makeup actually looks pretty dang good considering the amount of time I had. I take a second to cherish my makeup and daydream about my Barbie collection on the way… then snap back into reality when I look down and it’s 5:37. DAMMIT! I need to be in the car and moving by 5:35 to be at work on time.
Run downstairs, throw open dryer, close eyes, reach in… they are hot! And dry! YAY!!! Throw on most favorite jeans, grab keys, open garage, run out door. My car is not in the garage!! DOUBLE DAMMIT AGAIN!! My car in on the street, all the windows are frosted up and it looks cold. Then it hits me… My pants ARE NOT DRY! They were just hot and FAKING!! My pants are, in fact, quite moist and instantly cold. Like, freezer cold. I consider for a split second calling in sick, climbing back into bed with Ben and forgetting Monday ever happened. Then I remember I’m a PTO Nazi and that’s out of the question.
I run to my car while making a giant middle finger gesture to the sky. It might have looked like I was flipping off God but really I was flipping of MONDAY. FUCK YOU, MONDAY!
As I got on the freeway I had wide open road and every single cell in my body wanted to run the M3 wide open. To cherish the feeling of acceleration, the roar of the motor through my intake, feeling every curve and bump in the road though my stiff suspension… letting the crappy morning fade away by the rush of speed. But something held me back and after taking the onramp with speed, I throttled down and let the car drift down to 67 and cruised.
About a minute and a half later the motorcycle that was a tiny spec when I got on the freeway in the car pool lane caught up and passed me. It was a CHP.
I take it back Monday, I love you. *hugs*