Imagine, if you will, alarm clock number one blares loudly from across the room at 4:30a.m. (yes, 4:30a.m. – we’ll discuss my inability to adhere to the self-imposed discipline of time management in another post) – anyways –
Alarm clock number one blared loudly from across the room at 4:30a.m.. It’s about six feet from the space where I continually dent my mattress (I bought one of those nosupposedtodent mattresses about six months before I had my weight loss surgery – dented it in three – and voided the warranty at the same time because I exceeded the weight allotment). I flipped the comforter off and heard something hit the floor. It sounded like a small bag of fish tank rocks plopped on a counter.
But before my brain could register something hit the floor, I promptly stepped in that:
At least it wasn’t ice cream.
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