“It’s late,” my husband whispered, “We better get up.”
Forever and always, I have hated getting out of bed, especially in the dark. This morning. Dark. Jerry crawls over me and out of bed. Meanwhile, I pull up the comforter and settle in for at least fifteen more minutes of sleep, rest-I don’t know, I’ll take it.
Watching my husband pour our coffee, I have an odd sense. The kids and felines of the house have internal clocks. No kitty visits this morning and it is strangely quiet in the house. “What time is it?” I ask as I put toothpaste on the brush.
“I screwed up,” my husband began, “it’s still early.” Knowing my possible reaction he continued, “It’s a good thing. Now we have all this time.”
I drag my now tired body out of the kitchen, feeling lost in a battle between spring forward and fall back. Burdened with the fact that I have just lost an hour sleep, I have all I can do not to slip back under the covers fully dressed with my shoes on.