January 2, 2010

Trippin' ain't just for hippies...

Some mornings, it's tough to wake up.
Some mornings, it's tougher afterward.

Here's a rundown of a typical post-snooze saga as played by myself (in the unfortunate lead) and my supporting cast (strewn about the stage).

Exit bed - trip over snoring 70 pound ZaedahDog for whom getting up is like being drafted.
Head to closet - cut off by Zazu, who only wants affection when I have other plans for my hands.
Leave room - kick 'black cat in the dark' Zorro who, in general, sees this as quality cuddling.
Shower time - fall over bubble lovin' Zimba who insists on drinking out of every running faucet.
Breakfast - sloppily dodge as Reuben climbs up leg in an effort to secure love regardless of pain to human.
Walk through living room - stumble around Bugg and Stitch, who believe we all paid good money to see them... you know... boink.
Check water bowls - Collide with massive Willow, a German shepherd who is convinced she's the size of a newborn lightning bug.
Feed the maniacs - perform webble wobble dance as the herd comes running like divas at a Gucci giveaway.
Search for seating - only to find it's all be taken...

The unmentioned animals (oh yes, there are more) are patient stagehands waiting until the dust settles from the multiple collisions before making their daily debut. Needless to say, I am a canvas of bumps, bruises and occasional contusions, painted fresh everyday by artists plotting their masterpiece of carnage!

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