It's a Beautiful Morning

The curtain of sleep slowly lifts. It is around eight in the morning, and off in another part of the house I can hear the jingle of Carlotta's collar. Through the closed windows I can hear the 'kaw! kaw!' of a crow and the twitter of all his lesser bird friends. Next to me I hear the rhythmic breathing of a sleeping Mark. Such an Idyllic morning. Then as if possessed, Marks eyes pop open and he starts talking, loudly. "And I don't care if the government knows.", he lets out in an angry voice.

I am not a morning person, I have never been one. I don't wake up all cheerful and ready to go, gleefully wishing everyone a happy day. If I fall asleep for five minutes in front of the television and I am awakened, I will need at least one minute of grumpy time. So in the morning, I need at least an hour of grumpy time. Not Mark, he wakes up ready to go, and whatever subject he last talked about the night before is still on his mind. It's as if he fell asleep in the middle of a sentence, and the moment he awakens, he finishes it. It scares the hell out of me every time.

As for my grumpy time, I just need a period of quiet before I get going after sleeping. I really don't want to discuss politics, or world events first thing in the morning. Mostly I just try to figure out if I was dreaming or if that winning lotto ticket, and the ride in the space shuttle were real or not.