Once more I find myself naked and dripping wet in the hallway, trying frantically to jump and hit the stupid reset button on the fire alarm to quiet the blaring. There are two thoughts that break through this cacophony:
1. Why would you ever build a bathroom without an exhaust fan to run during showers?
2. Why in the world would you place the fire alarm directly outside the bathroom with no exhaust fan?
I lied. There’s a third thought.
3. This wouldn’t be a problem if my goddamn bathroom door latched securely preventing my dogs from venturing in to see what I’m doing.
I love my dogs dearly, but they have given me a whole new appreciation of the concept of co-dependency. They must know where I am and what I’m doing at all times, or it is the END OF THE WORLD! The ear piercing wails of the alarm and its robotic voice announcing, “Fire, fire, fire,” don’t phase them in the least, but it’s bloody Armageddon if I leave the room. Finally, blissfully, I manage to hit the button and quiet descends. The morning peace has been restored and I can now go about getting ready for my day. Now where the hell is my towel?
I’m running late. Which is no surprise as I’m always running late. Mornings are not my friend and I have perfected the art of getting out of bed, walking across the room and turning off the alarm without actually waking up. It truly is a marvel how I am able to navigate the clutter of my bedroom while asleep. I’ve even put my rowing machine directly in the path between my bed and the alarm. Doesn’t matter. I am a sleep walking ninja.
But I’m up now, and I’m showered, and that’s what counts. This is what I keep telling myself. I hate being late. It makes me feel like I am letting everyone down, and some days that is enough to make me give up. The depression takes the mic and the inner voice becomes, “You’ve already let everyone down, why even bother? Just go back to bed.” This is an amazingly convincing argument as the bed is warm and soft, and the aforementioned dogs are curled up giving me a look that says, “Come snuggle mama!” I do love a good snuggle.
No, I’m going. Late or not. The inner voice is wrong. I’m doing the best that I can and today this is as good as it gets. I announce to the dogs that it’s time for breakfast and they are up like a flash. I would kill for even a fraction of that energy. I mean there’s coffee, but you would have to down at least a pot of the stuff to reach puggle energy. But the coffee is better than nothing. And cookies. There are totally cookies in my desk, and as I’m counting the episode in the hall as a workout, cookies with my coffee sounds acceptable. It’s the little things that get you going. Let’s do this.
