There are a lot of things that are great about living with your boyfriend. You always have someone to talk to, someone to watch movies with, someone to cook with, and let’s not forget, someone to snuggle. There are, however, times where you wish the bastard would just move the hell out already.
In our relationship, that time is exactly between 6 and 7 am.
Let me elaborate. We don’t get up at the same time every morning. We get up at almost the same time every morning. When I work early shifts I get up at 6.35 am, which means that I time my first snooze to 6.25 am to give me ten minutes of blissfully undisturbed sleep. Marius gets up at 6.50 am, and times his first snooze to 6.30 am.
Yes. You don’t have to be a rocket surgeon (the super-breed mutant of the rocket scientist and the brain surgeon) to see the problem here, do you?
See, we have a disagreement. Marius isn’t bothered by the surplus snoozes that he gets from my snoozing schedule. He feels that our snoozing schedules are completely separate entities – apples and oranges, if you will. Meanwhile, his snoozes bother the fuck out of me. Let me illustrate.
And so my morning is ruined. So ruined that not even tea can save it. Not even bunnies could save it. The only thing that might be able to save these mornings would be poodle puppies, but that would have to be pure, undiluted, liquefied poodle puppies injected straight into my veins.
I still love him though. Snooze-hogging bastard.