Bah!

Bah! That’s my sound for pure frustration. I’m not a morning person. I’ve documented my trials with being an morning person. It just never pans out. So now that we have an alarm clock, a.k.a. Willow, I have to be up whenever she deems necessary. Most mornings it’s just before my alarm goes off around 6:00 a.m. This morning it was 5:30 a.m. I tried everything to ignore it, including burying my head beneath pillows in an ostrich like fashion. After 10 minutes of constant barking, I crawled out of bed, got dressed for the crisp morning air, and stumbled down the stairs. My eyes were so tired that my glasses seemed clouded.
A blurry Willow was enthusiastically wagging her tail in the hopes that I would release her playtime and breakfast. She’s too adorable, even at 5:45 a.m. to be mad at. She barreled out of her cage right into me asking only for attention. I managed to get her leash on and we went out for her morning potty break. The grass was frosted over which caused much displeasure for Willow’s little paws. As she bolted for the back slider I struggled to catch up. Our normal routine began once we were in the kitchen.
I spend the next hour feeding her, playing with her, and making sure she doesn’t tear up the furniture. At 7:00 a.m. I am supposed to be relieved by my husband so that I can get ready for work. He’d already been up once to let her out around 4:00 a.m. So I don’t blame him for wanting to stay in bed as long as possible. This morning he stayed in bed a little too long. Now he put behind schedule. I was able to get in the shower close to 7:10 a.m. I rushed around the house getting ready, running from room to room to try and make up a minute or two.
At 8:00 a.m. I knew I was going to miss the 8:07 a.m. train. One minute later I was in the car speeding out of the driveway. When I passed the police station I was much more conscious of my speed. I hit the third red light concerned that I might now miss the 8:14 a.m. train. After backing into my usual parking spot I grabbed my bookbag and lunch, locked the door, and ran for the train.
Normally it’s about a 7 minute walk from the car to the platform. It was now 8:08 a.m. And there was no sign of the 8:07. When I reached the platform at 8:12 a.m. The 8:07 was pulling away. If only I didn’t spend two minutes searching for my blackberry. At 8:14 the annoying “ding” could be heard over the train loudspeakers, and the mechanical sounding recording followed it. “Attention at Stratford, the 8:14 train to New York will be arriving 5 minutes late. On the bright side, I hadn’t missed the train, however, I was definitely going to be late to work.
When the 8:14 finally pulled in, I sauntered to an open pair of seats and got comfortable. At Bridgeport the train picked up the chattiest passengers. This is what really go me aggrivated. Go ahead, talk to your neighbor, but must the whole train be privvy to your conversation. When we picked up passengers in Fairfield this woman insisted on squeezing in next to me. Perhaps none of the open rows of seats around us were to her liking. All I kept thinking was can I just be left alone?
When we pulled into Stamford station, I had finally accepted that my day was not going as planned, and that I should work with the craziness rather then against it. So we'll see how the day goes.