Damned I’m not Not Late Getting Started Again

Damned if I’m not late getting started again, but it’s not my fault this time. No, I blame day, that being last night.
How can I blame a period of time equal to a fraction of the rotation of the earth? Easy, I went to sleep at 0100, that is 1:00 AM for the twenty-four-hour clock challenged.
You see, I sit up with my lovely wife until she falls asleep, approximately 2345. (Subtract 1200 form the number to read the time.) Then, after watching a few minutes of The Late Show With Steven Colbert, I decide why not read for a while. One thing led to another, and I start editing back over yesterday’s writing.
Suddenly, it’s 0100. (If you can’t read that go back to my second paragraph.
See what I mean, not my fault at all.

Well, only so much exhaustion can be fixed with a cup of coffee.

Ah, much better. Now, where was I? Oh, yes.
The alarm blares at 0520. I wake up, stab my alarm to death with my finger, and glance at my wife and say, “Time to get up, Dear.”
“Five more minutes,” says Dear.
What is a man to do? So, I give her five minutes.
“Five more.”
Now I start feeling like the witch hunter in Salem, Massachusets who in trying to seduce a confession from a suspect witch dropped a rock on his chest only to hear, “More weight.”
You probably see where this is going but being a writer, I can’t stop.

It’s like an addiction, and there is no twelve step program.

Five minutes later. “Dear…

“One more minute.”
“I have to wake up the boys.”
“One more minute.”

Then up she pops like a devil from a Jack-in-the-box. Strip from her Tee-J. (That is a t-shirt she sleeps in.) Bathroom break. Brush teeth. Shower.
A few minutes while I wake up my son.
Dressed, we run downstairs where she fixes breakfast to eat from her desk at work and takes most of the coffee.
Son #1 comes downstairs, bleary-eyed. Kiss, kiss, hug, hug and the door.

I need to compress time here, a bit, so consider this a brief trip through a small wormhole. (Obligatory Science Fiction Term.)

Boys fed and dropped off at school, I return home, sit my cold cup of coffee on the end table and recline with a lie to myself. I will just close my eyes for a minute.
1100, Oh, shit!

Damned if I’m not late getting started again, but it’s not my fault this time.

Now that we’ve reached that sudden moment of Déjà vu for you, I need to go to work.

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