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Thursday, April 9, 2015

the morning slug...

My Sweet Husband (MSH) is a fascinating man. He’s smart. Handsome. Kind. Funny. Handy. Wise. Silly. Brave. (Except he does shiver at the sight of a centipede.) He’s also quite energetic. I suspect he could have been diagnosed with ADHD when he was a child/adolescent/teen. He rises early. Has for as long as I’ve known him. Which is about 38 years. And when I say early, I mean 5:00 a.m. Sometimes 4:00 a.m. He blows and goes all day long. Inside. Outside. He’s driven to make goals. Complete jobs. Succeed. Even at the most mundane chores.

When his four sons and our TLC were adolescents/teens, he’d drive them cRaZy—waking them up early every weekend. For yardwork. To clean their rooms. For church. Just on general principle. He apparently believed if he was up, well, all of us should be up, too. (I’ve also been an early riser most of my life. I did enjoy sleeping until 7:00ish on the weekends! For the past three-ish years, however, I’d call myself a bit of a “slacker.” I “linger” in our bed almost every morning. I’m awake at 5:00. But sometimes it’s 8:00 before I’ve drug myself out of my comfy comfort.) When MSH’d wake the kids, he’d start by opening their curtains/blinds. He called it “killing the bacteria!” I cannot even emphasize enough how much each and every one of the five DESPISED this procedure. To this day, TLC is NOT, I repeat, NOT a Morning Person. Fortunately for MSH, Little Leighton has inherited the Early Worm Gene from him and we’re all up, at the crack of down, with her. MSH loves it! Once in a blue moon, TLC gets to sleep a teensy bit later! She thinks 8:00 a.m. is HEAVEN, bless her wittle-bitty-Mama-heart.

I knew MSH was beginning to get back to his old, silly self—from the trauma of his recent, second heart attack—yesterday morning , when this conversation happened:

MSH (as he walked up to my side of our bed…): Am I supposed to be taking that allergy pill every day?

(I finally convinced him, after trying for almost 20 years, to take Allegra. He’d argue and argue—as he sniffed, sneezed and hacked—that he had no allergy issues. About a month ago, he conceded he might, in fact, have some “Cedar” problems. He agreed to try Allegra or Claritin.)

ELC: Yes. You do. You take one every day.

MSH: Well, okay. Then I need to let you know I have only five Allegras left.

ELC: I have a new bottle in my cabinet.

This (retired!) man, who’d already had breakfast, walked Buddy Bear, taken his shower and was dressed for the day (it was 7:20ish), stood by our bed, looking down at me. Me—ELC—The Morning Slug.

ELC: Do I need to get up, right this second, and go get that bottle for you?

MSH (taking about 2 seconds to think of his answer): No. But you do have to get up in five days. If you don’t mind.

Hahaha, MSH. That was a good one. I get it. I’m lazy. I could lay in that bed for five more days—right. Yes. Clever. Quite clever.

He’s bbbaaaaccccckkkkkk!

Happy Friday Eve, Sillies Everywhere!