Something bizarre happened this morning.
I, for most of my life, have hated waking up with an undeniable fervor. Ask my mother. I, historically, have NOT been a morning person. Ask my old man also. He used to make it a point to avoid engaging me in conversation before my second cup of coffee. I am grumpy and generally disagreeable. I stumble to the kitchen, bleary eyed and cursing, running into dogs, hair disheveled, pajamas akimbo, to pour a cup of steaming hot nectar of the gods. And not until I've sated the grump-monster within am I capable of anything resembling a decent conversation. This is not an exaggeration. This is an accurate portrayal of my morning alter ego.
(Disclaimer)Now, understand, morning as a time of day, I've always rather enjoyed. But, I've always preferred to enjoy it alone. I like to sit outside and drink coffee alone; smoke my morning cigarette alone. Quietly. I don't have a problem with morning. I have a problem with waking up and talking to people. I don't like to be bothered when I'm gathering my wits and shaking the sleep from my brain.
I say all that so that when I tell you what I did this morning, you will all know that there must have been some sort of planetary realignment, shift in the magnetic forces of the Earth, alien invasion, solar flare while I slept. SOMETHING happened. I woke up and...*drumroll* made breakfast for my old man and actually sat down at the table and had a pleasant conversation. I know!! It was all very surreal. Now, don't get me wrong, I didn't make eggs benedict or anything. I cut up a kiwi and put it on a plate. No great shakes to some of you, but for me? Groundbreaking. Tomorrow, we're going to move up to toast and jelly. Who knows, maybe eggs benedict is in my future!