*** continued from previous post ***
While Mom enjoyed a good scrubbing, I busied myself the way I do most mornings and promptly fell back asleep.
This time not the sleep of the dead, but more like 'Hey it's really cold because it's December and the electricity is out so let's bring that big honkin' BBQ into the house, fill 'er to the the brim with briquettes, and fire that baby up! That'll warm us all toasty and put a healthy glow into the kid's cheeks' kind of sleep.
Wait a sec. . . . ummm . . . I guess that's the sleep of the dead as well.
I don't know if you're aware, but another of Mom's and my favorite games is: If-David-Falls-Back-Asleep-Don't-Wake-Him-Until-It's-Five-Minutes-Before-The-Time-We-Have-To-Leave.
It's not my favorite game, as waking up in a modified panic does funny things to my heart and can cast a pall over my morning, but your mother has grown quite fond of it over the years. I don't share her enthusiasm, but she puts up with quite a bit from me so I allow her these simple pleasures.
I've asked her many, many, many times why she does this to me, to which she replies, "I woke you once. Be an adult and get your keister out of bed."
Silly, silly Mom. I've tried to explain to her that obviously, after all these years she KNOWS I'm going to fall back asleep, so why play this silly charade? Why not just wake me again?
To which she replies that I KNOW she won't wake me again, and I KNOW that I have to get up, so why do I insist on playing this silly charade and just get the hell out of bed?
Oh . . . now I get it! Gah! Well played good woman. I’ve done been bamboozled with me own logic.
*** the journey continues ***