The sun's been pretty lazy here lately. It barely peeks it's head up till after 6:30 am.
Oh Joy! Here come the dark days...
The dogs don't care about sunshine though. I swear they know what time it is from the grumbling of their bellies. It's no wonder that I'm snoozing on the sofa by 8 pm. With the "Triple-Threat Doggie Alarm Clock" sounding off my day starts off by 5 am every day (if not sooner).
Except on rainy days. Oh, they still get me up all right, it's just that they cluster at the back door looking at me pointing at them saying "Go outside" with disbelief in their eyes. "You expect me to go out in THAT?" their eyes say. Then they turn around and go lay back down, thoughts of food and frolicking far from their mind. Those are the days that I can "go lay back down" too.
But those days are rare. Few and far between. Most days I have no choice in the matter.
Bellies must be fed.
SM on the other hand...
If I'm asleep on the couch by 8 pm, SM is usually up till midnight. Most days he gets up by 7am though. Just enough time for me to give him a sleepy, warm hug and a quick kiss before I hit the road to head into work.
I'm off on most Mondays though.
This past Monday morning, I'm busy with my usual morning routine and I feel like writing some posts so I get on the computer and start blogging. After awhile I get up and notice that it's already past 9am and SM is still not up yet.
I creep up to the bedroom door and open it quietly.
There he is sleeping.
Or at least I think he's sleeping.
His face is turned away from me so I can't tell if he's dead or alive.
(So we've finally reached the age where I need to wonder about THAT. Great...)
I take a step closer and eyeball the bed covers looking for movement.
Another step and I'm leaning over him.
I lean closer and tilt my ear towards him.
There it is.
Whew...He's still breathing.
I tippy-toe back out of the bedroom and head back to blog some more.
After about another 1/2 hour, I hear rustling and SM stumbles out into the world, smushy faced and sleepy eyed.
"Wow...What happen to you?" I ask gently. It's never a good policy to approach SM with difficult questions before his second cup of joe.
"Sleeping pill..." He mumbles, grabbing a coffee cup out of the cupboard. (He hadn't been sleeping very well with the cold he's had this past week so he took a pill.)
"I was wondering if you were dead or alive." I told him giving him a brief hug.
Is this what happens as you get older? Checking each other for a pulse? Watching for signs of life? Will I be lifting eyelids before too long?
Hello? Anybody home?