Sunday, September 16, 2007

O What A Beautiful Morning...

Ugh. I slept in this morning. Big time. I'm talking 9:15 am here people! I just don't have good days when I sleep in. I feel tired all day, crabby, lazy and unmotivated to any thing at all. When I wake up early though, we're talking anywhere from 5:30 to 6:20, I'm in a good mood all day. Okay, for the most part.

So I'm tempermental! I can't be in a good mood all day. Get over it!

So I wake up this morning, stumble into the bathroom, already snappish and angry because my hair is frizzy and sticking to my face and I am mumbling a string of childish words like "stupid-head hair, lame-butt hair..." that I learned from my best friend's 8 year old brother, minus the "hair" parts. I tripped over the rug on the way to the bathroom, and slammed my hand in the linen closet door. Not a good way to start out the morning. So I wash my face and such as and step out and back into my room where I stand staring blankly at the wall, very disoriented, wondering what I should do next.

WAKE UP CAITLIN! (something I'm not very good at) Get dressed, eat breakfast, start the laundry, clean the kitchen, sweep the dining room, feed the cat- where is the cat?

It takes me a couple of hours to wake up- allow me this time frame before you expect for my brain to become fully functional.

Oh, wow, I just spend several minutes laughing hard. Fully functional? ME? Now there's a joke...

Dad walks in the house- I'll mention right here that he always does this! The one day I sleep in out of so many morning of getting up at about 5:30, he has to walk in just the minute I wake up. Why couldn't he walk in like half an hour later when I am out of my pajamas, the groggy look on my face is replaced with one that is actually.... I dunno. Awake? Till I've had my breakfast, and have started the numerous chores awaiting me.


So he walks in, proclaims that the "lazy hunters are already gone and I just woke up", and asks "so what did you do all night?"

Ummm. Sleep?

My Momma and I may have spent countless hours cleaning and cooking and cleaning and baking and cleaning and doing laundry and cleaning, and not two minutes after we sit down to watch TV, get on the computer, read or play a card game, Daddy walks in dripping sweat, gives us one of those looks, and then we feel totally offended. It never fails.

My Daddy is the last of a rare breed in many ways, but I shall state two right here. One is his honestly- his undying hoensty. I seriously, seriously doubt my Daddy has ever, ever, ever told a lie in his entire life. Well, okay, so maybe he blamed something on his little brother when he was 8, but you know what I mean. He just doesn't lie, and his morals are just so strong. The next... well, I got two words for you.


He's up at 5:00, outside by 6:00, comes in maybe once in the morning to drop off the mail he picked up, make a phone call, get a drink of tea, but this lasts all of 5 minutes then he's out again. In for lunch for an hour (if that), then out again, in the afternoon for like 10 minutes, out again, and finally comes in at night around 7:00. He works very hard- he takes care of a 128,000 acre ranch with 1400 head of cattle, I mean come on. There's alot of upkeep to ranching- fixing fence, fixing leaks, working on storage tanks, keeping up with the water, mechanic-ing on the ranch trucks, not to mention just general livestock upkeep.

So you can imagine how puny I feel when it's 9:15 and I am wandering aimlessly around my room in my nightshirt.

Daddy leaves, I get dressed, eat a yogurt, and realize the blogging part of my brain is now somewhat intact and that maybe while the initiative still exists I should sit down and blog. I didn't know what about- but I was gonna do it. I was on a mission! bore you with my tiresless rambling...

But I have a new mission now. Cleaning the house.

Oh, joy.

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