... look and see is there a letter, a letter for me?
And if there is dont't effing well ring my doorbell at 7.20am on an effing Saturday morning. Especially when I am all cuddled up in my warm bed! Because weekdays you usually arrive after 9.30 am every morning and so I don't get my mail until I return from work. I had no alarm set for once this Saturday and Larry told me he would get up for the dog and I should lay in for once.
I often work weekends (5 out of every 8 on a shift rota, which only the ancient Egyptians can figure out its that complicated) and so to me this is Nirvana. The doorbell made me jump up and lose the quilt into the freezing cold room- the heating hadn't warmed up the home yet.
The doorbell - which sounded more like the bells, the bells of Notre Dame to my ears and my crouched over Quasimodo like frame. I reach out blindly for my specs and fall over the dog sleeping on the floor on my slippers, I collected my cold naked body (not a pretty sight I assure you, as I now get so hot at night in bed - for hormonal reasons you understand, that when Larry is home the bed is almost to hot to bear clothing and a duvet) - oh dear too much information I hear you mutter - sorry!
I get up too quickly and I slam into the wall ouch! I sumo wrestle myself blindly still sans spec's into my dressing gown which is now upside down , I huff an puff myself into it correctly. I swear under my breath. Then into the still very dark hall I notice the gown is now inside out, I'm awake enough to be embarrassed whether Mr Postman notices this fact or not and I care enough to take it off quickly trying to sort out the knot of sleeves. Swearing louder, working faster so the ding, dang, ding , dong doorbell doesn't ring again and wake everyone in the house, cos then I won't get to sleep again. I catch a glimpse of my crooked morning face- why does the pillow do that to me- a morning crease that leaves a deep groove up from my nostril to my eye and is sometimes still there at midday- my hair looks like shagging hair as if I had a good night actually - er I hadn't had a good night actually.
I unlock the door, the poor postman is standing there looking frozen but cheery, I can't think why, I really daren't think why, I say brightly, 'You're an early bird!' oh! the drivel he must hear from people in the morning, well I tried to be nice and I signed for half a dozen packages, which I notice are all for my daughter, then I notice my mother's writing (why does this always make me smile?) even though I now know who to blame for my awful early start!
I turn and close the door, put the mail on the chair and nearly trip over the dog - black- in the darker hallway who now wants out for a pee, so I walk blondely towards the kitchen and SMASH my shin on the effing dog basket, it still hurts like a bugger now!
I did return to bed although only for another hour hopeful of starting the morning over .. . and it turned out ok and I had a lovely day alone with Larry.