Mornings

So, as usual, I was heavily asleep this morning at 6:29 am, enjoying dreams of co-hosting the daytime Emmys with Jane Lynch when, ALL OF A SUDDEN, a certain alarm went off. Convinced that it was my phone set on a particularly loud volume, I swatted carelessly at my bedside table. After firmly throwing my phone onto the ground, I realized that the alarm was much too loud to be coming from my crappy $10 AT&T phone. It was, as I soon discovered, the fire alarm.

Fun.

Convinced that all things were burning, I quickly grabbed my phone and ran upstairs. Apparently my $10 AT&T phone is my most valuable object.

When I made it upstairs, I smelled smoke. Thoroughly convinced that everything was burning, I proceeded to run outside. This likely looked interesting to anyone awake at 6:30 and walking past the house; I was shoeless, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, and my hair was quite disheveled.

People slowly emerged from the house, and we all commiserated on the whole "house is burning down" issue. We became skeptical of this fact, though, when the alarm was turned off rather quickly. Our maintenance man cheerfully joined us outside, announcing that this had been a drill, and that we had done rather ok.

For some reason, my first thought was not about how "successful" our drill had been. Nor were my second or third thoughts. Instead, I thought:

1. Yay my MacBook lived.

2. IT IS 6:45 am

3. RAGE RAGE RAGE

The combination of anger and shock prevented me from falling back asleep. Begrudgingly, I got ready for work, and at 9:30 I left the house.

It began to pour promptly at 9:40. Sans umbrella, I had a delightful mile-long walk to work in the torrential downpour.

I did arrive at work, bags around my eyes, hair sopping wet, outfit ruined, shoes drenched, and attitude worsened. I'm fairly sure those who saw me enter were mildly alarmed by my appearance.

So that was my morning. I win, Ke$ha. I WIN.