Unwilling Early Riser

There's few viler sounds than that of a cat preparing to vomit. The convulsive gagging, perhaps preceded by a warning moan...the propulsive retching...then, if you're especially lucky, a splash, because that means it hit tile or other flooring and not an Oriental rug...and all at 5:12 a.m., which means you're up for the day, or until at least the caffeine wears off and you collapse like a marionette whose strings have been sliced.

  • I access CNN on the Interwebs to see if the world has ended; the world as I know it already has, but it's always prudent to see if something big exploded and if I'll need to dodge shrapnel.
  • I light a Bath and Body Works eucalyptus candle, hoping to disguise the residual smell of Friskie's turkey and giblets.
  • I raise certain shades. It is still dark but it's already in the 80's. 
  • I sip coffee from a 'Hamilton' mug and wish I had Lin-Manuel Miranda's royalty check for the week. Reminder to self: write something that will be popular.
  •  My husband opts to get a head-start on Saturday -- he rose, too -- by bringing out the vacuum. There should be an ordinance forbidding housecleaning while it's still dark.
  • I surrender to his energetic dash through the house by doing a load of laundry on Delicate. This setting ensures my clothes don't get any tighter. I don't appreciate any reminders I need to lose a couple pounds, x 10.
  • I check to see if anything shit in the pool overnight. Raccoons often do this. By day, iguanas will. My pool is essentially a big toilet.
  • At first light, I plant a bromeliad, from the porch but now past its bloom, in my front garden. I do so in my robe. While our yard is fenced, I know joggers and early-morning walkers can see through. I discreetly show my penis. They shouldn't be spying on me.
  • It's nearly 8:00 a.m. as I type this. My husband passes me with a Swiffer.