So its Monday morning. And I’m using the definition loosely. It’s dark outside, cold as heck, and the rooster’s still out cold. Don’t get me wrong: I have nothing against Mondays. It’s the mornings that irk me. So anyway, there I am, sawing logs, just minding my own business. A nudge on the shoulder and a feeling of dread greet me as I wake. Though now conscious, the hatches of my eyelids are firmly nailed closed. I stumble out of my bed like a ship with a schizophrenic at the tiller, nearly running aground several times as I stagger about on my two left feet. After narrowly navigating through the doorway, I flop down the stairs, leaving my heart, mind, and many other vital internal organs under the covers.
Having miraculously survived the trip downstairs, I slog toward the table. Dad pushes some breakfast in front of me. The lumberjack special: a piece of toast, with a drop of milk to drink. Oh, before you can fully appreciate my breakfast experience, you need to realize something. When I say a drop, I mean it literally. Don’t get me wrong: my dad’s awesome. But when it comes to drinks, well… The amount of liquid he gets by on would leave a cactus with a dry throat. A camel would be choking. And sometimes I think he forgets the rest of us need proper hydration to survive. But anyway, moving along…
So, due to the culinary drought, I leave the table with a mouth plastered wall to wall with peanut butter. I mean, I had some true interior-decorating going on: shelves, roofing, and maybe even some carpet going in. Impressed but choking, I scale the stairs (not without mishap) and stagger into the bathroom. Prying my sticky jaws open and mentally noting to keep a crowbar by the sink, I thoroughly saturate my mouth, rinse, and repeat. Then, loading down my toothbrush, I scrub away, thankful that my taste buds are not yet fully connected to my brain, preventing me from tasting the scrumptious blend of peanut butter and mint.
Offering up a prayer of thanks after again safely traversing the stairs, I gather my school stuff. Wincing as I sling the overloaded backpack over my shoulder (nearly ripping it out of the socket in the process), I head out of the house and collapse into the idling car.
Having been on the road several minutes, the sun finally rises. In our eyes, that is. But hey, it was still beautiful. By this time, the fog in my mind is starting to clear. With I smile I recall a certain quote:"
“On Monday mornings I am dedicated to the proposition that all men are created jerks.” (Me included)
H. Allen Smith
Alright, I'll admit- that was a little exaggerated. But honestly, its not too far off. The wake-up will always be my least favorite part of CC, but hey, watcha gonna do? =/
Have any Monday morning experiences or thoughts you care to share? Do tell. ;)
Hmmm..... This seems strangely familiar to the post seen on "i have writers blog" awhile ago.... I guess this must just be a coincidence, since its by the same author :).
ReplyDeleteWhat, huh?
ReplyDeleteI have absolutely no idea what you're talkin' about, PH...
P.S. Hey, do either of you have ANY email addresses from kids that go to CC? I'm gettin' lonely in here =/
Umm, I have Katie's! Or Jacob's! Besides that, I have Chris's and Andrew Rot's... maybe...
ReplyDeleteK, then email em, my good man!! ;)
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteIt is the same with me.
ReplyDeleteBy the way love the quote.
Well, other than Andrew, notta one of our L2 class has joined... Delinquents, the lotta them ;)
ReplyDeleteTime for a random comment...
ReplyDeleteFEEL MA WRATH, ALL WHO DARE ENTER THE TEMPLE OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL! FIRST, LORD VOLDEMORT MUST BE DESTROYED AND PEACE, JOY, AND HAPPINESS WILL COME TO DREAM LAND!
Erm...
ReplyDeleteI think ur book crossing there RB...
ReplyDelete