The dream fades and merges into the sounds of my room. Eyes still closed, the sound of snoring infiltrates my consciousness and I can no longer ignore the fact that it’s morning. The first sensation that floods my reluctantly waking senses is the pain in my jaw, I’ve had this pain for weeks now, somedays it’s unbearable, some days it’s tolerable. The desire to yawn is there uninvited, yawns have become dangerous, somedays I can’t open my mouth wide enough to yawn. I yawn. Today I can open my mouth, cool, still hurts like hell though.
When I set my alarm last night I was delighted when my HTC advised me that “this alarm is set for 10 hours, 10 minutes from now”, I don’t feel like a woman who has had 10 hours sleep but I take momentary comfort in the knowledge that I have.
I remove my earplugs and try to sit up, this proves difficult as I seem to fallen asleep in my dressing gown which is now nicely tangled with the duvet. I sit up, tuck the duvet back behind me so as not to disturb the sleeping husband, pick up book (Sworn To Silence by Linda Castillo, very good so far), mug and phone and push my feet into my slippers.
Maisy waits for me by the door and runs in front of me as I make my way down the first flight of stairs. She knows the routine and runs straight into the bathroom where she sits on the mat and blinks in readiness for the light to go on. I check my phone as I stumble down the stairs, slippers are on the wrong feet it seems, I have 1 text, notifications of concern from @DrewParky, @Spences10 and @MinaCab and details of new followers.
Obligingly I follow her and switch on light then reach passed her to run the bath. I notice there is no bubble bath, damn, today feels like a bubble bath day. I pause for a second before squeezing some blonde enhancing shampoo into the hot running water. Bubbles is bubbles right?
I glance in the mirror. Bad move. My hair looks as though some angry birds have tried to build a fortress in it during the night. I don’t fancy trying to get those tangles out. A loud thud makes me turn around and I see Maisy attacking some toilet paper, tail swirling and ears back.
Bath run we head out to the landing where DS1 and DS2 are emerging from their room. “Hi mumma, do you know why CH (he often talks of himself in the 3rd person) isn’t doing proper maths today?” asks DS1 perkily. “No.” I say as Maisy and I head down the stairs. “Mumma,” says DS2 “my foot clicked and now it hurts.” I stop and turn back to look at him, “ok, don’t click it again.” I say helpfully. “My foot feels like it needs to click.” adds DS2. “Right well you click yours and you don’t click yours.” I say to them as I carry on down the stairs. Before I get halfway we are plunged into darkness as DS1 goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. I know that DS2 will be frozen at the top of the stairs so I go back up a couple of steps and call out “Come on trouble.” Little footsteps soon catch me up and he walks down the remaining stairs with me.
I switch on the kitchen light and Elvis greats me at face height. “Morning panth.” I say to him. “Mmmelllo.” He replies. “I hope there aren’t 15 dead birds down here.” Says DS2. “And if there are any mice, they won’t be as cute as mousey.” He says wistfully.
Kettle on. Toast in toaster. I start making the boys sandwiches. The cats swirl around my ankles like a pair of basking sharks. I pause from cheese grating to feed them. One tuna pouch and one mystery pouch. I add the empty mystery pouch to the pile. Yes, I have a pile of empty cat food pouches ready to post to Terry Leahy before his leaves his post as CEO of Tesco – he has previously assured me that there will be no more mystery pouches, and yet still I find them in every box. I think they are chicken, this knowledge may help him I’m sure.
As today is a day that I can open my mouth I’m going to take full advantage and have chocolate spread on toast for breakfast So far this year I’ve lost 9lb because of my inability to eat some days. Don’t get me wrong, I have many of those lbs in the bank so it’s really not a problem.
Into the louge, boys put on the TV and SpongeBob SquarePants fills the house.
“Mumma,” Says DS2. “Why does Patrick even live under a rock?”.
“Because he’s a star fish, they stick to rocks.”
“And I mean I know Spongebob is a sea sponge, but why would he live in a pineapple? And Squidwert, one of those heads from Easter Island?!” He shakes his head incredulously.
They then have a conversation regarding the possibility of DS2 moving into his own room tonight. It is agreed, again, that he will. None of us believe it.
DH appears in the kitchen, washes up from last night as his lazy wife hasn’t, and then sits at the pc and sports commentation fills the otherside of the lounge.
Im sitting in the middle, on the sofa, with precariously balanced tea and 1 remaining slice of toast. To the right of me I have sports white noise, someone called Nidal(?) just did something good it seems. To the left of me the TV is now blaring out some american teen show – Tori or something. The noises conflict. Lisa likes quiet.
I glance at the clock, it’s 8am, thoughts of work flood my head unbidden and the days tasks lay themselves out like virtual folders. Time for that bath, which will now have to be quick!