Most of my mornings start out relatively the same. About half an hour before my alarm goes off, a greyhound starts whining. It's not an urgent whine, it's an under-the-breath, only-audible-to-bats-like-me whine that I am unable to sleep through. I generally say something ugly to whomever is crying in that manner that includes "get back on your bed," then roll back over and try to thread my pillow through my head via my ears to block out the sound.
This morning was no different. Even though today is possibly one of the most embarrassing state holidays that we have here in South Carolina (as well as other southern states), Confederate Memorial Day (affectionately called Bubba Hoo-hah day) and I have the day off, the whining still started around 6am. I managed to verbally beat them into submission with various threats such as "don't make me have to pull your tail out" and "I'll make your bottom lip fit over your ears, just try me" until about 7am. At 7:15 I gave up the ghost and got up.
Did I mention that I was up until about 2am watching the Battlestar Galactica dvds that a dear friend lent me, and then fell asleep on the sofa until 4am? Did I mention that today is a day off for me, that I celebrate annually by driving to Athens and having lunch with Kevin, a long time friend and former co-worker? Did I mention that I just wanted to sleep till 8am?
To add insult to injury, guess what my five furry bundles of joy did after I hauled my sleepy butt out of bed and fed them? They went to sleep.