writing doodle - day 21 - word count 328

Have you ever gotten up and felt more tired than you were before you went to bed?  That was how I felt when the alarm went off just before seven. Exhausted, blurry eyed, stiff and sore, and in desperate need of coffee.

Yes.  Coffee.  That black elixir so many people swear by and I claim to never need.  But I was almost tired enough to succumb to its siren song of hot, strong, bittersweetness that could give me enough umph to actually kill the alarm clock and start the day.

Instead, I told Hazel to cross her paws for nine more minutes and I'd take her outside so she could leak on a bush or something.  I swatted at the alarm, missed, hit the dresser with the flat of my hand and swore.  The clock fell from its perch and hit the floor, rolled under the bed, and continued its taunting bleat.  In an hour or so it might just die or give up on trying to rouse more than my temper and patience.  

I rolled over and stuck my head beneath the pillow.  It did nothing to stop the alarm from proving its point.  It had more endurance than me and it would indeed overcome.

In pursuit of just a little silence, I left the bed and crouched on the floor in search of the clock.  I switched the alarm off and was about to climb back into bed when the door to the motel room opened.

It wasn't the cleaners, too early in the morning.

No.  It was the dog walker.  In she walked, all bright eyed and bushy tailed.

I raised my hand in greeting and said, "Hey, XXX.  Aren't  you a little early?"

She turned back to the door and said, "Didn't you get my voicemail?  I need to XXX this morning and put you to the top of my list. I'll just come back later. Much later."

Monday.  Could this possibly be Monday?

~~~

not much but it is something.  Bueller?  Bueller?