The first hour of the day around here can be so challenging. The adults in the house all cling to the fading memory of sleep like shipwreck survivors to bits of floating debris, while the youngest resident and his dog are ready to get the dervishes whirling immediately.
There is something about feeling rushed: getting the morning ablutions in, breakfast begun, the dog outside-and-back-and-fed, and food on the table before the Tyrannosaur 2 year old Rex realizes he's hungry...sometimes both the intensity of this chunk of routine and it's quotidian tedium makes me crabby.
I'm beginning to suspect that is one of those cases where the counter intuitive option may be best; perhaps I should rise earlier to sneak up on the routine when it doesn't expect me.
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