one of the first days i've rolled out of bed before my waltzing alarm in a while. i hear more within those stolen few minutes than i do when the screeching begins and mother snatches the sheets off the broken slumber the house has finally nestled into.

the remainders of sweet waking dreams and hushed voices play like a broken record in my head. one of those worthless broken records you'll never turn off because you're enslaved by the vibrations it induces and are forever hearing new notes you were too deaf to catch before.

i turn over in sleepy surprise as i feel the cat sneaking over my pillow to rest happily on my head. we snuggle for a while until the alarm attempts to startle us into routine submission. i choose to ignore it. that is until the smells of cinnamon swirls stuff my feet unwillingly into their pink slippers and open my protesting eyes to a wonderful sight of golden toast and honey dripping teas.


maybe i'll resist harder tomorrow.