Let’s make one thing perfectly clear –
I don’t love anyone at 4:45am.
I don’t love the alarm clock. I don’t love the cat. I don’t love the fact that at 50 it takes me 45 minutes to gain the flexibility needed to tie my own damn shoes. I don’t even love my normally wonderful husband while he ties my shoes for me as I sit there humiliated.
At 4:45am, no one is my friend.
Because of my thyroid medication, I can’t even have a cup of coffee. So you know it’s not going to be a good thing to be near me for quite a while.
I don’t love the Border Collies who are leading us along our 3 mile pre-dawn trek around the neighborhood.
My Droid is not even a morning person. The past two walks it has refused to acknowledge any GPS signals in the area. It truly is a smart phone. (The die hard FitBit is also not loved at 4:45am.)
And all my brain can chew on is last night’s Netflix episodes of Weeds. I even dreamed about Weeds, that her boyfriend gave her an Irish Setter puppy, because, yaknow, that would somehow make her life less complicated. Crispy sodas. Little maid friends. Why this woman doesn’t go legit at any point.
I do eventually start to wake up. Usually it’s around the mile and a half mark when I remember I wanted to put Croakies on my glasses so I could run part of the way. Or that the thyroid meds have been ready at the pharmacy for a week and they’ve probably put them away by now because I keep forgetting to pick them up. Or that I wanted to put lip balm on before leaving the house and now my lips are dry and unhappy.
My stomach growls.
I couldn’t have eaten right away anyway, because of the meds. So now my mind moves on to The Big Bang Theory.
“Why can’t we just walk until we get hungry and then stop for a bear claw?”
My husband, who is slowly growing attractive again as the sun rises, chimes in on the “stop for a bear claw” as if he’s been in my brain having these zombie thoughts along with me the entire time. He gets a little cuter.
When we finally get home, I go right for a washcloth and some cold water. My face is hot and sweaty and I need relief. The hubby feeds the dogs. I make coffee and grab a new yogurt. Okay, so I don’t love Chobani right now. If I wanted steel cut oats in my oatmeal, I’d put them there myself.
Then I spend some time trying to loosen the oats, which are masquerading as fillings, from my molars and dump the rest of the cup down the drain in favor of an English muffin. I am not a morning person.
I still want to return to Fossil Ridge this morning. I want photos of pelicans fishing.
I might kiss the hubby “goodbye” before I head out. Might.