I do not like being up early. I will never, ever understand the people who run in the morning, the people who get homework done in the morning, the people who fix cars in the morning, the people who go rock climbing in the morning, the people who fly a rocket in the morning. You get the point. I don’t get how people function so early at such high levels.
Like, I’ll get up, sure. I’ll do what I need to do. But I won’t like it.
This morning, my phone was going off at 10 am (I know, I know, that’s not even early at all) as my family tried to get a hold of me to do things and answer questions.
And I swear I’ve never been so confused in my life.
I answered my mom in my best “I totally did NOT just wake up 2 seconds ago voice,” but before I could get anything in more than a hello, she’s asking for chips and balloons.
A simple request, to be sure. But you see, she was not speaking to Ari. Ari was nowhere near a state of waken-ness, so she was speaking to Ari Queen of Candyland, who was still halfway in dreamland.
So rather than asking, “What type of chips?” as I meant to, I said, “What… are chips?”
Kudos to mom, by the way, who simply replied “BBQ chips.”
The other day I picked up some fast food on my way home from work and because I’d deprived myself of food too much that day, I did what all good civilians do; I ate more than half of the fries before I arrived home.
By the time I parked and peeked in the bag, I noticed at least 70% of the golden marvels (a.k.a. my fries) were gone.
Again, I thought about what any sane and entirely well-adjusted person would do. I decided to turn up the tunes, sit back, and lay out the rest of my meal to finish it before going inside, in the comfort of my spacious two-door Honda Accord. It was a beautiful scene, really.
Except while I was eating, at least three, not just one Curious Carl, but THREE passersby glanced in my direction. I could see the look of judgment. The questioning “Why the hell wouldn’t you just go inside, you’re literally ten feet from your front door” look was all too apparent on their faces.
But here’s the thing, friends. I have a little Chihuahua (see previous posts where I talk about how obsessed I am with my dog), and he’s not… let’s say… the most well-behaved. What I’m saying is, he still thinks it’s okay to bark at you if you have food you’re not sharing with him. That, or he’ll jump and try to get it when you’re not looking; his track record with this isn’t the best due to his minuscule size, but he tries and it’s pretty adorable.
So, this being the case, sometimes you just have to sit in your car and eat your burger and what’s left of your fries, if you want any semblance of peace. And that’s entirely okay. Own it.
Rocky has recently taken to demanding late night walks. I think it’s because he secretly hates me; or maybe my new weird schedule threw his off too. Normally, I love to walk the little creature. It’s the only exercise I get, and he enjoys the hell out of his walks.
I’m not gonna lie though, I don’t find much pleasure in having to step into frigid air and darkness when all I really want to do is curl up in my bed and look at memes on my phone.
I made my way to the door when I realized my jackets were allllllll the way upstairs. But there was a blanket on the couch…
My thought process upon seeing the blanket:
“Is it socially acceptable to wrap myself in a blanket to go walk my dog? Probably not.
Am I gonna do it anyways? Yeah.”
^ Tell me these don’t look cozier than a jacket for a midnight stroll.