I'm Not A Morning Person

I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day. - Frank Sinatra.


I like that quote from Frank, it seems to sum up how I feel every morning, like I've been partying hard, drunk too much, gone ten rounds with a burly stranger and slept in my clothes! Yet in reality I've been home all evening drunk nothing but tea - well maybe the 'occasional' glass of wine for medicinal purposes you understand, and gone to bed on my own (the dog doesn't count). Waking up in the morning after another restless night is hard, so hard that my body seizes up at the thought and I try so hard to resist hitting the snooze button on the alarm. Most mornings I win and I stagger across the landing to wake my son,who I'm sure is just laying there awake waiting for me to say its OK to get up.

This morning was no different, I opened my bedroom door to find a demented husky lying in wait to pounce on me, which he dutifully did. There is nothing quite like the warm smelly kiss of a large dog to bring you back to consciousness! I called my son to get out of bed and headed down the stairs, trying to avoid falling over the dog which was doing his best to trip me up. Still bleary eyed and in the gloom of the darkened hallway I spotted an unusually light patch on the carpet close to the dogs bed, assuming he had been sick through the night I gave him a comforting cuddle and walked through to the kitchen to collect cleaning materials. Returning to the hall, and opening the curtains I discovered that what I had spotted was not doggy vomit but a nice bare patch where there should have been carpet. He has chewed not only through the carpet pile, but through the backing and the underlay, stopping only at the concrete underneath, which even though he is teething and apt to chew whatever he can, was just a little on the hard side for him.

Still, with temper unusually still intact, especially as I found I'd ran out of tea bags and I NEED my cuppa of a morning, we made it through to the school run. The dog watching through the glass of the back door as I we headed out on the short walk to school. I was a little concerned that by the time I got back the hole in the carpet would be the size of a man hole cover, but no, thankfully the carpet had been abandoned. Unfortunately he had found a new pastime to occupy himself.

I came through the door to what looked like an explosion in a confetti factory. He had managed to acquire a complete roll of kitchen towel and had proceeded to unravel, chew and shred every last piece of it. So now having cleared the mess away I an preparing to leave the house again. I fear I may have to duck tape him to his bed in an exercise of damage limitation.

Roll on bedtime.