Matt came downstairs this morning at 8:05, fully dressed, hair disheveled, and asked “Why do you get up so early, Bug?”
I explained to him that I like getting up early because it allows me to enjoy a cup of coffee, collect my thoughts for the day, do a load of laundry (which I, oops, forgot to put in the dryer), pack lunches, make breakfast, and generally enjoy some time to myself. I can read the comics, make lists, scratch under my bra line, and when the weather gets warmer go for a run or ride my bike to work.
I function better throughout the day, I sleep better, and I’m happier. Evenings in our house are full of plans and rushing around and Matt growing antsy after dinner about DOING SOMETHING and I end up going to bed in a tizzy because there are so many things left undone or I spent all night getting everything done and can’t calm down and Matt’s whining that “We didn’t DOOOOO anything.”
In bedtime news, here we are in all of our domestic glory. Diesel only looks innocent because he’s coming down from a sugar high after licking half the filling out of a cannoli I stupidly left on the counter, but we all know the devil is inside him. Oh, dammit, I can’t take a not-cute picture of the beast. Cuteness is his, without a doubt, his saving grace.
