The cats started agitating for food before the sun came up today, so I groped my way downstairs and fed them because I didn’t want my wife to have to get up, didn’t want them to wake her.
Now getting up before the day itself gets up is the worst possible thing in the world for me. It’s on a par with reaching out to turn on my bed lamp in the dark and encountering, instead, a hairy hand with claws eagerly fumbling for your own. It’s hard to get back to sleep, after a thing like that.
And after my grim errand is concluded, she gets up anyway.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Well, don’t! Go back to sleep at once!”
“But I’ve had my sleep.”
So, sigh, there I was, and I’ll bet it took me two hours to get back to sleep.
Now I’ve got to go to the nursing home, then to Wal-Mart to pick up a prescription, and by then I ought to be ready for the glue factory.
Some of you may want to check from time to time to make sure I’m not lying face-down on the floor.