Anatomy of my Morning

"You wanna meet me for a morning walk?" my friend innocently asked not knowing that I was fixing to rip her  ears from her head and stuff them down her dirty talking mouth.

"I don't do mornings," I growled with a sneer that rivaled Jack Nicholson's sneer.

Source

"C'mon," she insisted. "You'll feel better."

"Lady ... ," I growled. "Let's take a took at my morning ..."

Proof is in the ketchup

It became glaringly apparent to Daughter 1 that she’s not my favorite a few weekends ago.  Please note, that I was not aware of this injustice in our apparently-not-so-happy home.  Once Daughter 1 made this discovery (this time), she made me fully aware of this in no uncertain terms.

It was a Saturday.  I was sleeping in.  Daughter 1 had probably been up since 6:15.  She likes to get up early just to make sure the sun rises each morning.  And to get the good computer before anyone else has a chance to claim it for themselves.