A Strange Morning

I awake to the beeping sound blasting from my alarm clock, and with peepers still closed, my hand smacks the snooze button with as much force as a contestant on the game show Jeopardy.

Laying in the fetal position, my right eye opens slowly.  I find a three-legged cat perched atop my pillowcase, staring at me.  The pooch whines and nudges the palm of my hand to stroke her silky fur as front paws inch closer to me on the mattress.   Lifting the other eyelid, I notice a fat black cat using the crest of my left hip like Mt. Everest, which she has flagged and conquered.  “Meow” she regales demanding her food.

Closing both eyes, I refuse to recognize the angelic creatures requiring my attention.  My Aussie sees this as an opportunity for affection.

“Dog Germs!” I yell out in Lucy Van Pelt fashion, as a warm wet tongue licks the inside of my mouth.  Visions of Snoopy dance in my head.  Charles Schultz would be proud.

Jumping up, I head to the bathroom and search for some Scope to sterilize, but this action is pre-empted by fishing a small unrecognizable (dead) bug out the aforementioned orifice.  Gross (I think to myself).

While glowering at the woman’s face staring back at me in the mirror, I recall the dream I had last night.

In the dream, Cory, a Wentzville Starbucks barista, was brilliant as the activity director of a popular ocean liner cruising the Caribbean.  Cory ensured our time spent on and off the ship was fun and entertaining.   On a day excursion, four couples, including my husband and I, sunbathed and picnicked on a deserted island.  The ship’s dinghy was three hours late on the return trip – so I guess you could say we were stranded – for a little while.

I record this information in my subconscious and remember to share this with Cory the next time I see him at Starbucks.

Much closer to the mirror now, I examine the facial lines and wrinkles and remove traces of balled-up mascara from the corners of my eyes.

Lowering my derriere, I straddle the porcelain commode.  My curious canine approaches and sniffs, then with precision agility, backs away.

I can’t help but think it’s been a strange morning and I wonder…what the heck did I eat last night?