I really should get to bed earlier at night. Now that David Letterman has returned to television, I find myself engrossed in his "late night" rhetoric. Following his monologue and first or second guest, I shut off the television and then find myself sucked into reading; at the present time, a Nicholas Sparks novel.
At 5:30 each morning, my alarm clock introduces me to the world of the living with the local news station's morning crew talking about the weather and traffic. This morning, I reached over and turned off the alarm. The alarm had startled my beautiful wife. I know that if I remain in bed too long, she'll shake my arm or rub my back and tell me it is time to get up.
I roll over to my stomach and prop myself up, resting on my elbows. This is more an effort to demonstrate to my dear wife that I am awake; not so much to motivate me into getting out of bed. It is so warm and comfortable in my bed. I decide I'll remain for just a few more minutes.
Thirty minutes later, I regain consciousness. I am still propped up on my elbows, staring into the mirror behind the bed.
I slowly roll out of bed and make my way across the room. I open the dresser drawer and pull out socks and underwear and make my way to our walk-in closet. I scratch my head, rub my eyes and yawn as I look at all of the shirts. I wonder why I can't find any of my clothes, then realize I am looking at my wife's side of the closet. I chuckle to myself as I think about how I would look at work today, wearing women's clothing.
At 5:30 each morning, my alarm clock introduces me to the world of the living with the local news station's morning crew talking about the weather and traffic. This morning, I reached over and turned off the alarm. The alarm had startled my beautiful wife. I know that if I remain in bed too long, she'll shake my arm or rub my back and tell me it is time to get up.
I roll over to my stomach and prop myself up, resting on my elbows. This is more an effort to demonstrate to my dear wife that I am awake; not so much to motivate me into getting out of bed. It is so warm and comfortable in my bed. I decide I'll remain for just a few more minutes.
Thirty minutes later, I regain consciousness. I am still propped up on my elbows, staring into the mirror behind the bed.
I slowly roll out of bed and make my way across the room. I open the dresser drawer and pull out socks and underwear and make my way to our walk-in closet. I scratch my head, rub my eyes and yawn as I look at all of the shirts. I wonder why I can't find any of my clothes, then realize I am looking at my wife's side of the closet. I chuckle to myself as I think about how I would look at work today, wearing women's clothing.
I find that the bed feels so much more comfortable in the morning than at nights. Why is that? I am so not a morning person!!
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