Wednesday, January 21, 2009

A Whole Lotta Anxieties Rolled Up In One Dream

I think the winter blahs are hitting me pretty hard. I am having the damnedest time getting out of bed in the mornings. I start work at 8, so that I means I need to be out of the house by 7:30, latest 7:35. It takes me about 35 minutes to shower and get ready. I also like to eat, make lunch (not war), put the dogs out for morning pee and feed them before I leave the house.

Lately this has been my wake up routine.

6:00 the alarm goes off. Hit snooze.

6:09 the alarm goes off. Hit snooze.

6:18 the alarm goes off. Todd groans. Turn alarm off and tell self “Get out of bed at 6:20.” Doze off.

6:23 wake up with a start. Tell self “Get out of bed at 6:25.” Doze off.

6:34 wake up, glance at clock, groan.

6:42 actually swing feet out from under covers onto the floor. Fumble in the darkness on the way to the shower while rubbing eyes. Shower, dress, make self look presentable,

7:15 Glance at watch on the edge of the bathroom sink. Mutter to self “Holy shit, I gotta get moving.” I open the back door and release the hounds with a “If you don’t come right back and I am sending your asses to the pound. I mean it this time.”

7:17 I am lucky, they come back and tap on the glass door to be allowed in. I shower them with treats, praise, and most importantly, breakfast. Sometimes they don’t come back. Sometimes I have to put on my dog chasin’ shoes and tromp through the woods to get them to come back. My dogs don’t respond to threats. They’ve heard it all before. Chasing them knocks a good 5-10 minutes out of my morning, depending on how far they’ve gotten and how cooperative they are feeling. I scramble around the kitchen making lunch, eating my own breakfast, and getting my act together for the day.

7:35 I go back upstairs to take vitamins, brush teeth, put shoes on, and kiss Todd goodbye.

7:40 I pull the car out of the driveway, and set my GPS for work as the destination so I can see the estimated arrival time at the office. It says “8:03” and I curse under my breath. But I’ll still do something time consuming like pull into the library to return my books to the drive up chute on my way to work. Because there’s no way I could possibly do that after work. Nuh-uh, no way.

Last night I dreamt that I overslept. In the dream I opened my eyes and the clock read 8:30. I fumbled for the phone, called my boss to tell her that I overslept and I wouldn’t be in until 2. I assured her that I’d be in at 2, and would take the day as a PTO day and still work the final 3 hours, you know, just to be fair. She told me to come in by the back door so that the big boss wouldn’t see me come in so late.

Then I wander outside and see that the neighbor, whose house I can barely see in real life, has deposited a number of broken down cars on their lawn. I am completely pissed about this, and storm into the house to discuss the matter of critical importance with Todd.

At some point my cousin had come over and dropped off her toddler son for us to babysit. In response to my tirade about the neighbor, Todd stood up, walked into the other room, and retrieved the toddler.

“What the hell is that?” I asked. Um, a penguin?

I left the house at 1:30, to make it in to work by 2. God knows what I did with the entire day in that dream. I think I spent it agonizing about the neighbor’s broken down cars, the toddler in my home, and the fact that there is no back door at work.

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Blogger Unknown said...

Ahhh, you gotta love weird dreams. I've had plenty of oversleeping dreams.

January 21, 2009 at 6:56 PM  

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