The struggle of getting up

In which I repeatedly press snooze.

Baby sleeping in my arms

It may be a rarity but I got a bit of a lie in today, and on a school day.

As a result Mrs G kindly suggested we could change the time the alarm goes off, instead of 6.15am we would now be woken at the more sociable 6.30am. How extremely decadent of us. The one nice aspect was not having the normal morning rush, from the time I drag myself from bed I have barely half an hour before I am required to walk out of the door for the commute to work.

Of course this 30 minute rush could be extended if I didn’t have a snooze button, instead when the following tune goes off at 6.15 I start pressing the “Five minute’s more” button:

In days gone by then the snooze could continue until just a few minutes before I had to walk out the door, but now we have a secondary alarm who isn’t so forgiving when it comes to having a lie in. Normally as I am pressing “Shut up and let me sleep” the kraken in the nursery is awakening. In only a matter of minutes she will be demanding her tribute, or as is the case for a 14 month old dinosaur some milk.

So by 6.30 I am already downstairs stumbling around in either darkness (because I don’t want to blind myself turning on a light) or in darkness (because I turned on a light and now I’m blind).

As well as being a dutiful father I’m also being a good husband because I’m also putting on Mrs G’s coffee. Being a New Yorker there is no way I have been able to convince her that Nescafe Gold is an acceptable substitute for freshly ground filtered beans. So still in my slippers I become a barista and chef, and I don’t even bother putting on the kettle because I have two thristy ladies calling for their morning drinks upstairs.

While they are busy drinking I’m able to get dressed, which involves grabbing the first things out of the wardrobe no matter how uncoordinated they may be. By my calculation if you spent a minute a day thinking about what to wear then that is six hours a year wasted. Over a fifty year working career that is nearly 75 days, and this is assuming you can get sorted in 60 seconds.

Instead I will spend five minutes trying to decide what The Feliciraptor will be wearing. I’m given the power to choose her clothes, and that is a huge responsibility (especially if others are going to be seeing her as I will be judged).

Once the wrestling match is over and most of her clothes are in facing the right direction then I can deliver her to the safer keeping of Mrs G while I go for my morning constitutional. I get a few minutes to read the news, wash before I have to leave. A few kisses and a rush back into the house for the lunch I forgot and I’m in the car.

Not this morning though, I could sleep through the alarm, didn’t have to make coffee, could stay in my PJ’s and my commute took as long as the laptop to boot up. Today I started on the right foot.

Source: Struggle (Prompt idea bywittywheelz)

Author: geekergosum

Ah, so you worked out the riddle. You just needed to use dwarfish and the doors to Geek Ergo Sum opened. Or perhaps you just used Google. Either way you are here, on my little corner of the Internet.

4 thoughts on “The struggle of getting up”

  1. I’ve had way too many international friends. I totally drink Nescafe instead of “freshly ground” coffee. My American friends are all, “How can you drink this stuff?” and I’m all, “I just got used to it.” I developed a taste for it, and now it’s just what I like.


    1. I argued that as I was offered Lipton when I went to the US this was only revenge! As a non-coffee drinker I would not have all the utensils for fresh coffee as it was much easier to hold a jar of instant (and I would guess not many could tell the difference – or so the adverts lead me to believe)


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