I’ve had some really bad mornings in my lifetime, but none have come close to this. I lie in bed for what feels like an eternity, listening to Scott move around the house and praying that he leaves before I have to get up. Unfortunately, he doesn’t. As I toss and turn, biting my nails and whipping myself into a frenzy, I start to wish that when he moved in, I took the bedroom with the balcony doors.
Eventually, I get up and get dressed – when I hear Scott flick on the kettle and conclude that he’s in the kitchen. I dive to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.
Even that part of my morning routine is far from positive. As I reach the sink, I wonder for a second why our anti bac wipes – the ones that I used to clean the toilet yesterday – are sitting where I expected my make u
