How is it *my* fault?

Ever have someone in your house wake up late for work? You know how they blame you all day for it? That’s what I’ve got today.

Merrin woke up a half hour late today (5:40a instead of 5:10a). And maybe I do deserve some of the blame. The alarm clock is on my side of the bed. When it goes off, I smack it and her (not literally and not always in that order) and tell her to get moving. She usually insists on “snoozing” for another 9 minutes.

{{Sidenote: Mere words can not begin to express what a beating is to know that you could be sleeping, but instead – you have to wake up an hour early again because your wife wants to “snooze”. So nine minutes pass and then BEEP, BEEP, BEEP….}}

I mean, clearly a family cannot own two alarm clocks! Right?! So, Merrin gets up in a panic – cussing me, the dogs, the clock, and every animate and inanimate object in the house. Somehow she manages to “catch up” and leaves a mere 10 minutes late.

So what does she say to me when I come home tonight? “Hey, baby. I love you. Why didn’t you get me up?” Count ’em. Five words into the conversation and the spirits of long dead Spaniards have invaded my wife’s body and begun their Inquisition anew. SHEESH!

I’m telling ya – you can’t win either way. She’s either grumpy because you woke her up or she’s grumpy because you didn’t wake her up. Oh well, ya win some – ya lose some.