EY's Rants and Raves

I'm not a morning person. I much prefer to ease into my day than be jolted into it. Easing into my day is actually pretty easy when me and the coffeemaker are the only ones awake. For most of my life, I've had quiet and space in the morning. As a child, I was apparently such a horror to deal with that Mom pretty well left me alone until it was time to go to the bus stop. When we were first married, The Boy tried to hold conversations with me in the morning. He got frustrated when he got growls and evil looks. I told him to ask his mother-in-law why she left me alone in the mornings. I laughed out loud when, with an incredulous look, my mother asked him "you mean you try to TALK to her in the mornings? Why?" (I always find it funny when people don't believe what you tell them.)
Twelve years later, I'm not much better. Granted, I have learned to be polite to The Boy in the mornings, he doesn't try to talk to me much and it's rare that he's awake when I am. Still. On the odd times he is, I feel a little invaded. He turns on far more lights than I'm used to. (Of course, I don't turn on a lot of light because he's still in bed asleep and I'm trying to be nice.) He's not really in the way, but he's where I'm accustomed to being alone. More often, I'm in his way since he's between me and the door.

An "invaded morning" twice this week was a bit more than I really appreciated.

For any of my readers who are saying "be glad you don't have kids"....well, I am.