Phone: drrrring drrrring
Me: Hmmm... *sniff*... *blink*... *roll over*

Phone: drrrrring.... drrrring
Me: *blinkblink* Wha? Oh Holy Crap.

Me: Thud. Fumble. Crash. FUCK! Bam. Ouch. Damnit. Splat.
Me: "Hello?"

I like mornings, but whoever decided that they should exist so early in the day needs a good ass kicking. The phone rang at stupid o'clock this morning, which caused a near disaster as I tried to navigate towards the ringing object in the kitchen.

Me: "No.. you didn't wake me up."

Now, when anybody ever asks me that question, 9 times out of 10 I will happily lie my ass off, and try to convince the other person that I was awake, and not curled up comfortably in my bed. Why is that?

Me: "I was just about to hang out the washing." (why can I not think of anything CONVINCING at 6am?)

As luck would have it, it wasn't even for me. Agony. I am possessive about my sleep. I am the eye-twitching neurotic psychopath that would guard my sleep with a rifle, if I wasn't already unconscious. Strangly, I'm always very polite on the phone - even if I've just been dragged from a heavy coma just to answer a wrong number.

So, that was the beginning of my day. Typical, really.