I love my husband to bits….more than words can say, to the moon and back. (pauses to allow readers to fetch sick bag) However, mornings, me and my husband do not do well…
I am a zombie in the morning. I admit it. I am hell, I am awful. I am ratty. Do not speak to me, sing near me or even breathe near me. If you value your life, don’t even think of me! I can’t help it, I’m not a morning person. Once I throw about a gallon full of coffee down my throat, then and only then, will I become a human woman, not a beast. My husband IS a morning person. He is chirpy, chatty, garrulous and full of the joys of Spring…I CAN’T BEAR IT. After nearly ten years of living under the same roof, you would have thought he would have ‘got it’ by now. But NO, he still insists in trying to involve me in mornings. Maybe he just wants to help, maybe he is delusional, but it ain’t gonna happen.
Reading all of the above…my Father WHISTLED IN THE MORNING…now that is just torture! Not only did he WHISTLE IN THE MORNING, he whistled loudly and tunelessly. I blame my Father’s morning whistling for my first marriage. I mean after all, I had to escape the torture of his whistling somehow. Unfortunately I went from a well-meaning but morning torturer to a man who ‘whistled’ throughout the marriage. Whilst I have forgiven my Father for whistling, I have not forgiven my ex for torturing me in various and nasty ways for seven straight years!
On a final note… this is weird, my Mother (who is also most definitely NOT a morning person) used to breeze into my bedroom and say in a falsely hearty tone “Come on darling it’s a beautiful day” and pull the curtain wide open blinding me with the light…..Why?