Tom is not happy unless he is able to get outside first thing in the morning after he has chewed six to eight pieces of kibble and spit one or two of them into his waterbowl. At nearly 15 years old, I suppose he’s allowed to do that sort of thing. He has a routine and he likes to stick to it. If his routine is broken, or it’s the weekend, he will yowl loudly at the top of the stairs as if to do a reenactment of a stabbing scene and he will awake all that choose to sleep beyond 5:30. He even compensates for Daylight Saving Time. He’s smart like that.
I guess Tom is like his Daddy in some ways, because I’m pretty rigid in my morning routine as well. Not being a morning person, the only way that I can guarantee that I will be dressed when arrive at work is if I follow my routine to the letter, which involves acknowledgement that I am actually wearing pants, a shirt and shoes. I figure the underwear and socks don’t show so while I remember to wear them 99% of the time, there is always the risk that I won’t because they don’t go under the acknowledgment check before leaving for the day.
Earl tiptoes around the house in the morning during his routine because he doesn’t know what my mood is going to be like so he opts for the “live grenade” approach. I don’t think that I’m that unreasonable in the morning as long as I’m on my routine. I will give him credit that like Tom, who is smart enough to figure out Daylight Saving Time, Earl is smart enough to figure out my sleep walking in my actual sleep versus my sleep walking through the day up until about 10:00 a.m. or so.
That last sentence makes you nervous about yesterday’s picture of me driving on Thruway on my way to work, doesn’t it.