I hate the morning version of Gary. Morning Man does one of two things.
He wakes up early and screams in a panic from his bedroom:
“Ellen! It’s ten till seven!” (five minute pause)
“Ellen! It’s five till seven!” (five minute pause)
“Ellen it’s -”
“GARY! Shut UP!”
He wakes up late and screams in a panic from his bedroom:
“Ellen! Gah! Why didn’t you wake me up! Now I’m late! Way to be selfish! Thanks a lot!”
(And on the rare chance someone is wondering, “why do these vital loving people keep separate bedrooms,” I answer that I hate Morning Man. Read the above. Really, I would put a pillow over Morning Man’s face. Plus, it seems my snore / jiggly foot / stored energy is to blame for his insomnia, so I was routinely tossed from the marriage bed until I moved into the guest room. Not to worry. I still get bladder infections regularly.)
I’d be okay with the morning panic, even, except the Rant comes next. He vents all his wrath here so he doesn’t vent it over there, at his job. Fine. However, today he ran out of work rant material, and since he can’t do the ant rant since all the bathroom ants are dead, he started in on me.
“Bye!” I said, turned on my heel and left the bathroom.
“Oh, yeah, that’s just great. Real mature! Why don’t you ever help me out and wake me up when –“
I let the sound of my firmly shut bedroom door answer, and I got right back into bed.
I thought I could wait him out, but finally I had to start getting ready. Morning Man was in the hall, he had shaved, showered and dressed, and was pulling on his socks. He spied me sneaking into the bathroom.
“DON’T YOU DARE! Don’t you go into the the bathroom! I’m not done yet!” He charged up to the bathroom door, effectively trapping me in the very bathroom he still demanded I leave.
Huh, I thought. Theres some white stuff between his eyes. What is that? It looks like shaving cream. But he put his glasses on over it. Huh. A lot of shaving cream under the bridge of his glasses. I bet he doesn’t know.
Then as Gary continued to rant I realized he had decided to shave that tricky area between the brows. Can’t wax, too metrosexual. Can’t pluck, too painful. Nair smells bad. What you gonna do?
Friends, I really tried not to let him know. He trapped me in the bathroom, yelled I shouldn’t be in the bathroom, HE should be in the bathroom, and if I was a CONSIDERATE PERSON I wouldn’t even be standing in HIS bathroom in the FIRST PLACE AND WHY DID I HAVE THAT WEIRD LOOK ON MY FACE? STOP LAUGHING!
I really should never have pointed to the mirror, but Morning Man does have a tiny sense of humor. He reacted by using his buttocks to push me back out in the hall.
6 responses to “Morning Man”
Awww… that’s what I like about coming over here… true love. Nothing is quite as sweet. 😉
At least he takes it upon himself to address the tricky area. Oh the agonizing I did over how to bring it to Someone’s attention without making him totally self conscious.
My husband, damn him, has PERFECT eyebrows. It’s disgusting.However, such episodes do not take place in our house because he would be almost dead. No, I wouldn’t kill him. That would be letting him off easy. He knows that.You see, I, too, hate mornings. Only, I’m violent.
Sue – True HATE. I HATE Morning Man. I really regret telling him about the shaving cream.TasterSpoon – I think Sue the Immortal Hairstylist told him to trim those puppies up. She always snipped off the wings that sprouted out of the peak of the arch.Sherri – I have to admit, my reason wakes up a few seconds later than my emotions. If I wake up to screaming Gary has a chance my reason will still be napping and I’ll launch out of bed, into his face, screaming like a Silky Terrier in a crate.
Not me. I wake up pissed off and quite capable of killing as soon as I figure out how my feet work.That’s the big survival trick. You can outrun me.
Sherri – no one can outrun my Tongue of Pain.