The Best Part of Waking Up

I woke up this morning at about 10:30 and the first thing I did was to turn over and stare at the rings on the curtain. I was a warm and groggy mess. I'd found my comfortability an hour after laying down the night before, my difficulty in doing so easily blamed on the warm weather, unusual bed and adjustment to an extra 25 mg of medicine in the day. Then I rolled over again, then again, launched myself into a sitting position and dressed appropriately for leaving the guest bedroom.

Walking down the hallway I could hear the radio and noise of a shower from inside the bathroom. Then a yell and I knew it was Donald.

"COME ON!"

To be friends with Donald is to understand that he is a passionate individual. He is the model of expression, typically in the areas of laughter or frustration.

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

I knew that these were cries of outrage. I assumed he was listening to something objectionable on the shower radio or there was some new MMORPG called Showers of Warcraft.

"MARGARET!"

Sitting on the couch half-listening to this and still only half-conscious, it started to occur to me that something unique was wrong. Donald was yelling from the shower, Margaret was no where to be seen, but I was there, a strange visitor from another city. I needed a coffee or soda to wake me up. Maybe Donald had me confused with Margaret? But that wouldn't explain the reason for the strange innermittent screams --

"DAMMIT!"

Just then Margaret came into the kitchen, the sound of the garage door closing briefly louder and then quieter as she shut the door behind her.

"Good morning!" she said. "I've been watering the plants. It's hot out there!" And she said some other stuff, too. I don't remember. She'd been up since 9 and I was a lump on the couch. She exited through the glass doors into the backyard.

A few minutes passed.

"GRAHH!"

I looked from where I could see Margaret standing at the back of the yard holding a hose and pointing a stream of water at some plants, to the other side of the room where behind a shut door the anguished cries of her husband had been emanating with strange infrequency.

"MARGARET!"

I got up from the couch and sped to the glass doors, stepped through, shutting the door behind me so as not to let the cat out. I called to Margaret, "I think your water is messing up Donald's shower!"

Margaret walked back to the outside faucet, set the hose down and followed me inside. She went to the bathroom and we discovered that she was indeed disturbing Donald's shower by altering the water pressure of the house. She credited me with the discovery and Donald thanked me, but, honestly, I could have addressed the situation much earlier if I hadn't had so much trouble figuring it out.

But then that would have been no where near as funny.