There is nothing quite like TLW (The Little Woman) helping me to awaken in the early hours before dawn. It is 3:00 AM, the time between the last day being barely over and the new day barely beginning.
If I’m retired, why am I getting out of my new bed with remote control positioning and vibrating rhythm? Because TLW made me, that’s why. It seems #1 Son had to catch a plane out of JFK at 6:00 AM, and I had to drive him to the airport.
The technique TLW uses is standard basic training they all take at Bride School, the simple “Pound his head till he begs you to stop method 101” This style of wifery is guaranteed to get me out of my new bed with remote control positioning and vibrating rhythm, and on the hunt for the alarm that is ringing in my deaf ears, while simultaneously jumping up to my feet. Groping in the dark for the armoire, I stumble and stub my podia’s seeking a clean pair of underwear and socks for after my shower.
When presented with such a state of being, one must remember that the important thing is to stay alive. I step into the shower, turn on the hot water and suddenly want to sleep standing up, naked in the warm water, not wanting to move another muscle. I finish the shower; dress and head down the stairs and enter the eerie silence of the kitchen, where hours before there was life, and now only deafening silence. It all seems so strange to me, as I prepare the coffee, (which I never drank) and wonder why I am still standing and contemplate whether I will be able to drive half asleep. TLW instructs me to leave at 4:00 AM so she can say “goodbye” to her baby.
#1 Son is awake, looking chipper, and filled with conversation as TLW slowly makes her appearance before her humble servant and #1 Son. They will talk; they will cover all the conversational points missed the past nine days, kind of tying up the loose ends. My head will shrink some more as I sit comatose and reclined in my chair, looking at the clock, my eyes barely open, not moving a muscle and listening to what they may ask me, wishing I was in my new bed with remote control positioning and vibrating rhythm.
My fervent hope is to return to my new bed with remote control positioning and vibrating rhythm, getting into a fetal position, pulling the covers up over my shoulders and closing my eyes, not moving a muscle for the next two or three days, instead I will face the Long Island Expressway, and the glorious Belt Parkway, doing battle with the nut cases that will try to set a new land record for speed so they can get to their jobs and have enough time to read a paper and sip some coffee, or maybe even take a nap.
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