i had a small disaster this morning or maybe we should view it as a lucky streak. it all started in the wee hours of the morning. you know that hour that you-really-should-be-sleeping-and-in-fact-you-were-sleeping-but-your-stupid-overactive-brain-decided-it-was-done-resting-and-has-now-woken-you-up hour? the one around 3:30? this is where my story starts.
i opened my eyes to a dimly lit room, a soft glow at my window from the street light outside. through my curtains i can make out the shadow of branches swaying in a breeze. there is no sound, not even a car going by. i think it must be early if there are no sounds. a look at the clock and sure enough it's early.
i roll to my left. i roll to my right. i lay on my back staring at the ceiling. my eyes remain open like sentries guarding a gate except there is nothing to guard. i get up to use the bathroom even though i don't feel like i have to go. low and behold i did. i climb back in bed, put on my sweatshirt, turn on my lamp and pick up my book.
it is now 4:30. i'm tired of reading so i turn on my computer. i figured i would write to the person i always write to. my phone beeps you're still awake? sometimes i forget the moment i turn my computer on it shows the world that i am awake. just an fyi, i sleep with my laptop on the side of the bed that never has an occupant and often times i accidentally lay my hand across it. like a giant ogre my computer rouses out of sleep mode, but i am not actually awake. anyway, i chat for a few minutes and write for a few minutes.
it is now 5:00. i hear my coffee pot come to life. the smell of coffee creeps down the hall to my bed, luring me to the kitchen. i pour a cup, go back to bed and pick my book back up. my book is propped up on my legs, i'm holding my full cup to my chest drinking in the aroma and start to read.
the next thing i know hot fluid is being poured all over me. i have successfully soaked myself and bedding (to the mattress) in french vanilla creamer enhanced coffee. surprisingly enough i did not burn myself. thank you to the many layers of fleece i adorn myself and mattress in. i didn't leap out of bed. i may have been in shock. i just sat there staring at the brown stain wicking across my fleece covers.
in movements rivaling those of the south american sloth, i stripped my bed and started the process of laundering mountains of bedding. instead of getting up for the day i poured a fresh cup of coffee, grabbed a blanket from the couch and went back to bed. much like the weavers, i played the odds and pressed my luck. and like the weavers i won. granted it wasn't two lottery winnings in a single weekend, but i did only taking one coffee bath this morning.
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