Morning

I wake up early, the sun is shining in through my French doors.

Chubby is lying on his back with his paws in the air at the end of the bed.

I look at the digital display of my bedside clock, and it's not so early. I wonder if my body clock is slipping.

I'm nice and warm under the covers. I wonder if I'll ever get out of bed.

I fell asleep with the TV on. There is some terrible morning TV playing. No wonder the suicide rate is so high, if people watch these people in the mornings, the embodiment of beige sucking the life completely out of life.

I struggle to find the remote control in amongst the doona, it becomes critical when the screen suddenly goes to a live infomercial. Chubby rolls over and is looking at me with one eye open. I find the remote just in time. Boof, the TV goes black.

I lay my head back on the pillow instead. The warmth returns.

My nose is blocked. There is a tickle at the back of my throat. Don’t think about it, I think. Ha ha.

I pull the covers up and drift back to sleep. Unconscious is far preferable to morning TV, and far more entertaining.

The day is my, er, um, oyster, euw, sea, um, cucumber, I think. Giggling does not encourage sleep.

I try and think what day it is? Um? Er? I think it is Wednesday. No, Thursday. No, it is definitely Wednesday. Hump day.

Morning TV and hump day, could it get any worse?

I hear rain start to fall.