It’s 5′oclock in the Morning…on January 10, 2012 at 8:43 pm
On school/work nights I try to get as much ready for the next morning, as possible.
I’ve never been an early-morning type of person. The fact that my job starts at 6:30AM every day is obviously some kind of cruel joke, that my life delights in playing on me… Yeah… real funny, Life…. freaking hilarious.
To me, a good rational wake up time would be around 8 o’clock… AM
…. as long as there was no moderate to heavy alcohol consumption the night prior
or melatonin/NyQuil consumption…
8 o’clock is nice… I can be friendly with 8 o’clock… We can hang out and I’ll make 8 o’clock breakfast… 8 o’clock is forever welcome in my house
Now ask me about 5 o’clock…
Go ahead, ask….. No one’s looking…. or just mouth it since your obviously so freaking afraid someone is going to hear you talking to your computer… Really? Do you feel they’re watching you that damned close to where they’re going to notice you moving your lips? You know, it’s not all about you!?! Right now it’s about me…. and my blog… and my aversions to all things pre-8 o’clock
So, I hear you’re curious about 5AM?
Well, friend, let me tell you… 5 o’clock SUCKS! I hate 5 o’clock with every ounce of my being. Pure, unfaltering hate.
5 o’clock is vile…. and selfish… and steals all the sheets.
It’s like waking up on the wrong side of the bed EVERY DAY! … it’s like waking up on the wrong side of the clock.
The side that comes before 8AM
So, due to my ongoing feud with 5 o’clock, I have to make sure I prepare everything the night before…or in my morning stupor I will either forget something or forget everything… both options suck in their own special way.
Tonight I was begrudgingly starting the nightly round-up… lunches still needed to be made, back packs emptied and clothes laid out.
In the middle of my routine, I felt a presence standing next to me…
Daniel… holding some kind of permission slip… and a pen
I tried to close my eyes, before rolling them… but that never works out as planned
Turns out it was just a movie permission slip for some PG rated movie…. I laughed to myself over the fact that here is this guy, who is going to be starting high school next year… and he needs Mommy to sign for him to see a PG movie…
Cruel, Junior High… Just cruel.
As he placed the pen into my hand, I immediately switched to autopilot… I’ve signed numerous permission slips in the last 9 years… I usually just look for the long line and place my scribble on top.
But, something caught my eye…
“Does that say The Wonderful Ice Cream Shit???”
I didn’t realize that I had muttered the question out loud, until I heard Daniel snicker…
I stared at the paper again… nothing appeared any different…
I was still seeing it written as “The Wonderful Ice Cream Shit”
What the hell???
I looked over at Daniel, who just shook his head at my ignorance…
“SUIT, Mom… The Wonderful Ice Cream SUIT”
… I still think it looks like she wrote “shit”