I've never been much of a snooze button kind of gal, but you wouldn't know that from me this morning as I was peering out angrily at the country music blasting from Clok, which, yes, we only bought for it's awesome name. Anyway, this morning, I listened to about half of one song, which is entirely weird, too. Usually, it's a few notes and I turn that thing off, shake the short hair out of my face, crawl out of the bed, reel back with shock when my feet hit the cold hardwood floor (or a cat) and then proceed mechanically toward the coffee machine downstairs.
Not this morning. Nope. No way. I was on my way to Snooze Land -- or so I intended. Except Clok is sort of confusing. It's one of the few things I've let only Scott fiddle with while I shrugged my head and decided I just need to know how to turn off. BAD, Wendy, BAD. I couldn't figure out how to make it snooze. By the time I figured out I was Alarm Two and Look, there's the hour button!, it was too late. I skipped the snooze, passed on the head shake, felt the floor with my hands and carried the slippers downstairs, accidentally hitting one of the cats in the head as I staggered past the landing.
I've got my coffee. (I think) I picked up a bottle of Febreze on my way past the cleaning closet, apparently, too. Eh.
Must. Get. Work. DONE.
Thanksgiving makes me...
My dad and Janet arrive in T minus... well, OK T minus four hours from whenever they call me, which will hopefully be soon. I can't wait!!!
Wish us luck with the big dinner and many happy Thanksgiving wishes to you and your friends, family and loved ones.