Good Morning Starshine

My alarm goes off at 5:45 every morning. This does not mean I get up at 5:45, nor does it mean I have any intention of getting up at 5:45. See, the whole point of setting my alarm for 5:45 is that I'm the kind of person who is NOT a morning person and I need to wake up gradually.

I'll typically get out of bed at 6:13 or 6:20 (or 6:41). Gwendolyn does not quite grasp my scheme and is under the false impression that I set my alarm at 5:45 in order to make sure she is up and concentratedly kneading my body. And she will not be deterred! I shove her, I squirm, I protest, I sit up and physcially lift her fuzzy body off of me, but she is the most stubbornly determined cat I have ever met.

She is one persistent little feline and when she wants to knead, well dammit, SHE WANTS TO KNEAD.

So, after being kneaded to death by my little 8 lb cat at 5:45 this morning, I lost my keys. Nice segue, huh?

That's right. My car keys. Lost them.

I usually leave them in my car. I park in the garage, take them out of the ignition and plop them on the console. Ingenious, no? Well, last night I drove home from work, parked in the garage, and then for some reason still had my keys in my hand when I walked in the door. Instead of taking my keys back out to my car, I just set them on the table right by the door to the garage thinking I would simply snatch them up on my way out in the morning.

This plan would've worked if Daniel hadn't put my keys in his pocket when he came home from class last night.

Why would he do such a thing? Well, sometimes he is a mysterious person and does mysterious things, but I suspect he was simply tired, saw keys lying on the table, assumed they were his, and absently deposited them in his pocket.

I, of course, had no idea my keys were residing in the pocket of the pants he had on last night. And he had no conscious memory of pilfering my keys, which led to 10 minutes or so of frantic key searching until I was nearly in tears.

Just as I was about to give up, Daniel hurried down the stairs, "I found them". "Where?! Where did you find them?" "I don't want to talk about it." But then he immediately confessed to finding the keys in his pants and had only vague recollections of how they came to be there. And I only ended up being 7 minutes late to work. Yay.

I hate affectations. (another brilliant segue) So when a person says good morning to me at 7:37 in that artificially cutesy manner, I just want to say, "Yeah, I get it, you're doing the cute thing. Could you just be normal now, please?" It's highly irritating.