So, we were all up at 5:30. Husband because he’s actually insane and wanted to do his mind-and-body-punishing workout before starting his day (we know he’s there because we can hear the grunting from the basement as he hoists himself up into his 55th pull up orsomethingequallyridiculous). Daughter and I because she had to be at school at 6:45 to get on charter buses for A Very Special Field Trip.
Can I just say that nothing gets your day started like getting to maneuver around 250 probably-already-not-that-good-of-drivers who are possibly as addled as you are by the fact that they had to get up in the middle of the night.
At one point I sat at the stop sign to turn left/exit while 17 cars turned right into the school drive; but ONLY TWO OF THEM HAD TURN SIGNALS. IT’S THAT STICK-LIKE THING THAT PROTRUDES FROM THE LEFT SIDE OF THE STEERING COLUMN — YEAH, THAT THING THERE WITH THE UP AND DOWN ARROWS ON IT. USE IT!
When we got in the car (at 6:25; it only took Only Daughter 8 minutes to put her shoes and socks on; I think we might have a record) it was pitch dark outside; “like 2 a.m.,” Only Daughter said. It didn’t occur to me to ask her how she knew this. On the hilly road before her school there was one little panel of fog, at Prius-roof height, parallel to the ground; my lights caught it in such a way as I crested the little hill that I actually ducked. (We’re fine.) By 6:50, as I was returning home, the sky was blue rather than black, with inky smears of clouds not yet caught by light. Kind of beautiful in a what-the-blank-am-I-doing-out-in-the-world-already sort of way.
By 7:15 a.m. I’ve found wrapping paper for two gifts I need to wrap, sorted and started the laundry, and written an email to First Son about the fact that sometimes there are better things to do in terms of building relationships with people than having to be RIGHT all the time (hmm, wonder where he gets that from). All before my first cup of coffee.
I have vowed not to go back to bed — too many things to do — but am wondering if sleeping on the couch counts. It’s a little couch, and not all the comfortable to sleep on, and the cat hair makes me sneeze. . .