Better Clucking Through Chemistry

Morningtime and I have rarely gotten along. We're like relatives who see each other once or twice a year at family gatherings, socialize only long enough to remind ourselves that we truly have nothing in common, and then part ways utterly grateful that we can drop the fake smile that is making our cheeks ache.


Sigh. Perhaps I am overstating. There was that 15 week span in 2000 when I delighted in every Tanzanian sunrise.

But come on, if it takes an Ngorongoro Crater horizon to make me happy at 6am, there really isn't much hope for a Durham, North Carolina morning that starts with step-sliding through a pile of cat barf, right?

Anyway, I've found that Morningtime and I get along best when we have a routine to depend upon. A set of tasks that takes our minds off of each other so that we can both go about our own business. My wake-up routine now consists of staggering to the kitchen, putting on a kettle of tea water, and assembling a small plate of peanut butter toast and pile-of-pills-to-be-taken-with-food. The pill pile currently consists of a Women's One a Day multivitamin, a fish oil supplement, a calcium supplement, and an antidepressent (40 mg of Celexa). Once my herbal tea has steeped (Celestial Season's Tension Tamer Extra), I gather my plate and mug and head out to the deck to sit in the cool morning breeze. I am usually welcomed sweetly by my critters, who cluck, mew and snuffle their greetings while I struggle to keep my eyes open. 

 

Unfortunately, routine or not, my mornings rarely go as planned. I already mentioned this morning's cat barf (Though I respectfully left out the bitching and cursing that followed. Your welcome.). Ths morning's 2nd incident involved a pet pile-up of epic proportions. As I opened the back door and shuffled outside, Tiny Dog pushed ahead of me so as not to be left inside. The grey cat Atticus, who had been waiting outside for just such an opportunity, immediately rushed us and assaulted the poor dog with a full frontal lovefest, rubbing this way and that, unaware that his love was unrequited. TinyDog, of course, screeched to a halt and tried to backpedal away from the cat's unwanted embrace.  Five curious hens then waddled into the gap to see what all the fuss was about.  A total of seven (7!) little critters were all of a sudden directly under my feet as I swerved like a drunken coed, trying to avoid smooshing someone. I ended up sort of slowly tumbling sideways and resigning myself to some light bruising even before I hit ground. The good news: I saved the tea. Not a drop spilled. The bad news: The toast and pile-of-pills went flying. Helpless on the ground, I watched as 1-2-3-4, my entire early morning pharmacy was gobbled up by the chickens. Multivitamin. Fish oil. Calcium pill. And the 40mg of antidepressent.

Somebody is going to be one mellow chicky this morning and she isn't me. Sigh. But, like my good friend Nancy always says, "Oh well!" As the chickens set in on the peanut butter toast, I pulled myself to a seated position, leaned against the back wall of the house, and took a long drag of my Tension Tamer Extra. My TinyDog curled up on one side of me, my Atticus cat on the other. I sat outside on my ass in the cool September breeze and determinedly ignored Morningtime for all that I am worth. True story.