Awake and Dreaming.

This morning Coffee had to go to the OHIP office before work, so the alarm was set for 6:56 instead of our usual 7:59. After hearing it blare a few times, and after I smacked ‘snooze’ a few times in response, Coffee got up and headed downstairs to start getting ready. He turned on the coffee machine, filled in some forms, then decided to come back upstairs to let me know that I had been distracted by the rats for almost an hour. (I go in there every morning to say “Hello!” and rub some bellies and all that other good rat-related stuff.)

I was not in the rat room, however; I was sound asleep on my little pillow with my duvet pulled high over my head.

I have no idea what the hell happened between the time the alarm went off and when Coffee came to re-wake me. I don’t remember putting my head back down, I don’t remember thinking, “Oh, I’ll just lie here for a few more minutes” and I don’t remember turning the alarm clock OFF. Thus, when I bolted awake and found my dear husband a few inches away from my face saying something about getting up, I experienced a level of disorientation that can only be described as, “WTF happened here?”

Clearly this whole “not working” thing has done WONDERS to disassociate “getting out of bed” with “alarm blaring”. Have I mentioned lately how much I like my life?

Next up, breaking the bond between “daytime” and “need for productivity”.

(Who am I kidding? That one was the first to go..)