“Thanks for breakfast,” Dave said cheerfully as he got ready for work. I had crept back into the warm security of blankets and bed after propping my uncooperative eyelids open with toothpicks just long enough to prepare the requested Eggs Benedict for my early rising spouse.
Now, with both eyes squinting against the incendiary brilliance
of the overhead light, I mumbled something about people who can’t tell day from
night.
Choosing to ignore such yawning petulance, my lighthearted husband
stood there by the dresser tying a meticulous knot in a yellow-spangled tie and
whistling the kind of ditty that sounds downright unnatural at 5 o’clock in the
morning.
“Of course,” he ended his tune with an amused reproach, “poached
oatmeal with Hollandaise sauce is an unusual topping for English muffins. Didn't know whether to add ketchup or brown
sugar. But I have to admit that
substituting bologna for the ham was an ingenious bit of economy.”
Tie knotted, my better half bent down to kiss me “goodbye”. Then slinging a jaunty, navy blazer across
one shoulder, he left for work.
“Oh, what a beautiful morning!” I could hear him singing as he went.
“Why is it that owls always marry larks?” I muttered.
By now it would be impossible to
recapture the plump appeal of my pillow. So, wandering aimlessly into the
bathroom, I examined my haggard face in the medicine cabinet mirror. Still
groggy, I turned on the cold water tap and stuck my head beneath the icy
flow.
After a few moments, I reached for
a nearby tube of liquid Prell shampoo and methodically washed my hair with Crest
Mint Gel.
 | ||||||||
| Dave, back in the day when he was a lark and I was an owl. |
Now we are both owls and larks. Just can't stay awake in between!
