His Morning Monster

Comfy Monster

I am not a lot of fun in the morning, as anyone who has ever lived with me can attest. I can’t seem to exhibit any signs of humanity until after I’ve been awake for about 3 hours. Civility is especially hard before 9am.

My husband was the first male outside my immediate family to see me in my morning state, and God bless him, he still loves me. He finds my morning self funny, which might be the only reason he’s still alive. (I once kicked my best friend for trying with too much seriousness to get me out of bed before I was ready. I’m sorry, Carlynn!)

Though he may not realize it (in fact, can’t possibly realize it), I love him best in the mornings. This isn’t very logical to me, since it’s the time of day when I’m grouchiest, smelliest, and least-coherent. I guess I figure that if he can still love me then, he really is the amazing catch I’ve always suspected he is.

This morning was an especially detestable morning. The alarm went off late (or, more likely, I heard it late). Dustin didn’t have to go anywhere until 8:30 because he had a meeting in town, but he got up first anyway and let me have my extra ten minutes of sleep. With a little encouragement from the cat, I finally heaved out of bed and got my teeth brushed, but I still hadn’t managed to get my eyes open. I stumbled over my own feet and couldn’t seem to find my way through the shower curtain into the shower.

That’s when Dustin, rooting around in the closet, finally notices I’m up.

“Hello?” he asks.

“Mmrmph,” I reply, still doing battle with the shower curtain.

“It’s my morning monster!” he declares.

For some reason, this made my morning a little better. Primarily, it was the “my” part. Yup, I’m a monster in the morning. But he’s come to terms with that and still claims me.

“Mmrghl,” I agree as I finally get under the water.

“You okay?” he asks. This is a standard daily check-in. Truth is, I’m never okay before 8:00 am (well, 9 most days) but it’s probably a good thing he asks because Laura-who’s-having-a-normal-morning and Laura-who-maybe-contracted-the-plague-overnight must look about the same.

“Yumph,” I say, as the intelligent speech centers of my brain begin to twitch back to life.

And then, to top it all off, he got me flowers today. No special reason. If he doesn’t win the prize for being the world’s most wonderful husband, I really can’t imagine who else qualifies.

From my schnookiewookumpoo.

2 thoughts on “His Morning Monster

  1. How sweet!
    On a side note… now I really understand why he thought it so odd when I visited and could speak coherently in the mornings….

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