Status Quo: Rude Awakening

He and I were lost in a long embrace. I was thoroughly enjoying the moment, along with my fantasies about where things were going. My body jolts. My eyelids shoot open. “Bay Bridge traffic is backed up to the MacArthur maze,” the deep voiced, unaffected announcer informs. That f*ckin’ bastard! It’s 7:34am. Time to get up. I yawn. I yawn again. My feet are cold. My hair’s a mess. I want more sleep. My brain starts to simmer, firing off a few unpleasant sound bites through my system: “work,” “get up,” “go to.” If I try for another ounce of romance, er sleep, I won’t wake up ‘til noon. My brain is sharp now. It gets me. My body rebels. "I am blessed to have a job..Blessed I am..Move that tuchas.” (Note: tuchas=cutesy Yiddish word for ass. Even when I’m semi-alert, I like to keep Yiddish alive.) The body undergoes the physical challenges of pushing itself out of bed and into a somewhat vertical posture. I throw clothes on that might not completely clash in the daylight. I do my standard 4.75 second make-up job. (Not to brag, but I could pass for someone who spends 2 seconds or less on make-up.) I think “food” because, well, I always think food. I find myself in the kitchen, pouring a bowl of shredded wheat. Try it with milk, the awakening brain suggests. I open the fridge door. No, not that one. That’s the microwave. Try again. I think I can. I think I can. Fridge. Milk. Morning. Romance stifled by rude awakening. Status quo.