ECD's morning

6 a.m.: Awakened by Sweetie from a pleasant dream. Resist being annoyed since She is nice to wake up to. Tell Her how beautiful She is. Receive the usual Womanly statement of disbelief.

Wait my turn for the bathroom.

Check the blogosphere for new comments and blog buddies I have neglected.

Vote for Number 4 on that Today Show Throws a Wedding thing, at Sweetie's behest from the bathroom.

Remember almost too late that a load of dark clothes is sitting in the washer from last night and needs to be dried unless I want to go to work in my underwear.

Curse the clock.

Shower. Shave. Bleed. Contemplate growing a neck beard like some doughty old pioneer patriarch.

Curse the clock again.

Indulge in a bowl of oatmeal with raisins, cinnamon and honey, even though I don't have time for it.

Curse the clock again.

Make the bed. Hang up the clothes from the dryer. Increase level of mental loathing for the person who invented clocks.

Scrounge the kitchen for lunchable items. Resort to a frozen burrito and a plum.

Curse the clock again.

Measure out medicine for the cockatiel.

Remember that what's left of the garden will probably be dead when I get home if I don't run the hose on it for a minute. Invent new swear words for the person who invented clocks.

Kiss Sweetie goodbye. Accept good-naturedly Her demand that I drive the speed limit.

Run out the door barefoot trying to remember my sad excuse for a lunch, my wallet, pocket junk and to turn off the water.

Wedge my knees into my tiny car. Change the station from the mush-rock that Sweetie loves to my favorite hard rock channel. Be annoyed by the screechy DJ that lives in the radio in the morning. Contemplate how much later I'd be if I went back inside for my Metallica CD.

Drive away. Pound the horn at some fool whipping out of a gas station into my lane without any attempt to look where he is going. Realize that it is a She. Feel bad. Then remember that sometimes, Tough Love is necessary and that perhaps I saved Her from doing the same thing again some future day and getting smashed up.

Slow down by the field where the cop always hides. Merge onto the Interstate.

Point my hood ornament towards work for another day.