As previously mentioned elsewhere in this Blog, I do not do mornings well. I don't like them and they don't like me but mornings and I have come to a semi-comfortable truce as there is just no avoiding them for at least the next four years. Well, that's what I had hoped right up until this morning.
Due to the fact that we can't seem to keep a full staff in dispatch for love or money (maybe it's the air?), I currently work double shifts on Saturdays from 7:00 a.m. to 11:00 p.m. so coming back in at 7:00 a.m. on Sundays adds a whole new chapter to the Groan ~ I Hate Mornings! saga that has become my life. If I have problems getting up in the morning after seven or eight hours of sleep, how well do you think I function after only just about six? No degree in mathematics or science needed to figure that one out, eh? Now, just to add some more fun to the mix, let's toss in my 14-year old daughter's inability to apparently put anything away back where it belongs and see how it goes.
After forcing myself out of bed after only 1-1/2 swats to the snooze alarm this morning (yay me!), I managed to stumble into the bathroom only to find that there was not a single hairbrush anywhere in the room. Not a one. It doesn't matter that there are at least six hairbrushes currently taking up residency in my house - none of them are where they're supposed to be. This was cause for some grumbling on my part but okay, I figured I could live with it and I was sure I'd find one somewhere else in the house.
While the cat did her usual "feed-me-can't-you-see-I'm-starving" howling, I eventually managed to get my uniform on without succumbing to the intense desire to call work and tell them I was running a bit late while I retreated back to bed for just a little while longer. It was tough but I turned my back on the bed and, still not feeling all that awake, went downstairs to the living room where I finally managed to find a brush (three of them had apparently migrated to the area of the couch). I then went into the kitchen and fed the cat so as to shut her up and then proceeded to make my lunch. Bread, jelly, and ... where the heck was the peanut butter? Why was the peanut butter not in the cupboard? I know we have peanut butter so where is it?!?
Thinking that perhaps Amanda had put it back in the wrong cupboard I looked through all of the cupboards we keep food in and even a couple that we don't. After coming up empty-handed I looked in the refrigerator and the freezer and when nothing turned up there either I checked the living room on the off-chance that perhaps she was eating peanut butter while congregating with the hairbrushes. Nope - nothing there either. Feeling quite annoyed at this point, I went back into the kitchen where I checked the trash can just in case Amanda had gone on a peanut butter-eating frenzy and wiped out the entire half of jar that was there when I left yesterday morning but - nope - nothing there either.
A quick glance at the clock showed me that I was starting to run out of time so I resisted the urge to go upstairs and demand from my daughter's still-sleeping form where on earth the stupid peanut butter was and decided that I'd just have to suck it up and lunch today would be a jelly sandwich. Perhaps this was God's way of telling me that I didn't need peanut butter and jelly two days in a row or perhaps the gremlins that like to leave lights on around the house occasionally had absconded with the peanut butter and taken it back to their lair. Who knew? Either way, it was just jelly for me. Oh yum.
Once I finally got to work I was greeted in the bay by several fellow employees who told me that Jen "looked like crap" but that news didn't really surprise me as this pregnancy has been kicking her butt lately. Upon arriving upstairs in dispatch I was met with the news that Jen's blood pressure was up and in addition to her usual swollen 'cankles' her hands and face were now starting to do the same. None of that sounded very good so once she got in touch with the OB Doc on call, "better safe than sorry" was decided upon, and she took off to the hospital.
Whereas I could certainly understand and appreciate her circumstances and was concerned for her and the baby the morning was really beginning to tick me off! First no hairbrush, then no peanut butter, and finally no partner?!? Good grief! I really think I should've gone with my first instinct to call in late and crawl back into bed with the covers over my head - work ethic be damned!
Have I ever mentioned that mornings suck?
*Larry the Cucumber ~ Veggie Tales "The Hairbrush Song"