Morning With My Boyfriend

Morning with my boyfriend goes like this:

The alarm goes off at 6:30. He springs out of bed. He is one of those people who springs out of bed. I think I used to be. Then I got real. Who wants to get out of bed? I find it impossible to spring out. Sometimes he will snooze, but after one round of snooze he springs out of bed. Oh wait, first he screams very loudly for the cat. Then he pampers the cat for about 2 minutes and says, "Get outta here you little fucker."

Oh and before the cat I get my morning kiss. I have always gotten a morning kiss from him immediately upon waking, even when we weren't really together and I was blinded by lust and convincing myself that we were--probably because of the morning kiss, which is a super husbandly thing to do; I think I would say to him, "you know that morning kiss means you want to marry me, fucker." Now, if I do not get my m-k for some reason, I feel very hurt and analytical all day, especially if the cat gets pampered and I do not. And if he doesn't do it immediately, I get in his face and remind him with sad-eyes. Then he takes pity on me. Then he springs out of bed.

Sometimes he comes back in at some point and turns the light back on even though there is no reason to turn the light on because it isn't really that dark. I make a whining noise that goes on for a long time and dramatically put my head under the covers, even though the light isn't that bright because it's so bright outside. I keep staying in bed until after he leaves for work. This sucks because I then have to make the bed every day. But it's very Zen of me, to get up and make the bed, and to put all of myself into the making of the bed. Because that's how I think of it. Not.

When I finally get up, in the living room there is often a bowl of milk with one Honey Comb floating in it. I always say I'm going to leave it there, but then I don't. Because he does things like hang my purse up. So I do the bowl. And I wonder about the single Honey Comb, and later I ask him what he thinks it says about him, if it's like an artwork he's leaving for me or something, and he tells me to stop analyzing his personality via cereal.

I guess the bedmaking is ok because he makes the coffee and usually there is some left. However, we have about 10 coffee thermoses, all of which are either in his car or at work. And we have fights about the thermoses because I never have one to take to work. What good is extra coffee if there is no thermos in which to transport it? I often blame him and the thermoses for my financial situation, because if there is nothing to transport my coffee in, I have to buy coffee--and that dollar a day adds up: it is like saving a child. I also hate the thermoses themselves for taking up so much space in our cupboard. Half of them don't even have lids.

When we didn't live together, he would just take mugs of coffee in his car with him and then his car would fill with all the mugs. Or all the mugs would be at work. And I wonder if he started with the mugs because all the thermoses were at work, too.
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An excerpt from the next installment, Evening With My Boyfriend: "We watch all those cooking reality shows, and also Makin' the Band w/ P-Diddy. I get sad when people I like get booted and make sad faces/noises and he says: Oh Jesus. Even if they are bad I will whine and be sad for them, and he will remind me that that person fucking sucked. And I will say, yes, but he was so sweet and cute.

We also quote the cooking reality shows, as in, for example: "That's a very nice workbench you made, but did you make the wood yourself? Because you definitely had time to make the wood yourself." Because on America's Top Chef one of the chefs, Lia, who is really dumb and lazy, makes a modernized version of Beans and Franks with store-bought sausages and the judges totally bust her for it."