It’s another morning and I am awake
It’s a sunny Sunday morning. I’m still sleeping on the couch. I woke up in the usual manner, with the sound of my cat Alice destroying the papers on my desk, scratching, biting, pulling the edge of each one. This has become part of our routine. She wants me to get up and, and I refuse to budge. I think it is quite passive agressive of her. I don’t want to reward such behavior. She’s determined to be fed.
So are my other two furry friends, but they are content to use more gentler forms of pursuation like a soft meow or a tenative caress. Sometimes, if my dog Grace really has to go to the bathroom he’ll sit upright on the bed next to my lazy body and just stare. Hovering over me, both silent and patient. There is nothing as disconcerting as waking up to see two big brown eyes fixated on you from above.I want to nap. This is not fair. They all get to nap whenever they wants to. I on the other hand get up at 5 or 6 in the morning most everyday to go earn a living for us. Don’t they understand? Mummy is tired! I yell at Alice for the fifth time to leave my papers alone. She stops, hops down and disappears for a moment. I know this repreave is only temporary. I gear myself up for the final showdown, when Alice will return to target some precious mememto or a plugged-in electrical cord in the attempt to escalate the situation enough so that I can’t ignore her.I’m ready. I have my hand on the water bottle I keep by the couch for situations like these. She slyly walks back into the living towards the desk. She glances at me to gauge my reaction, sees the water bottle, and promptly turns around. Alas I have triumphed but I get up anyway. Something far more persuative has forced my body into action: guilt.
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