Daily Write: Habits

She wakes me up when she climbs out of bed, and after she's rounded the corner for the bathroom, I quietly crawl into the warm spot that she left. I doze, and listen to the sounds of her routine: the toilet flushing, the toothbrush whirring, the tap running, the shower water falling on tiles, the vent fan spinning... which always develops a loud rattle after being on for five minutes.

That rattle is what clues me into the fact that she's almost ready, and impatient as I can be, I get up, shake off the last of my night's sleep, and head for the bathroom too. I usually wait for her right on the threshold, blocking the way out of the bathroom, in the space between the doorway and her dressing area. Sometimes, when I really want the day to get going, I peek into the shower to see if she's actually still in there... disbelieving of how long she can take.

Sulkily, I stare off into the hallway while she towels off, combs her hair, puts in her contacts, and otherwise finishes up in the bathroom. Every now and then, I go so far as to let out a bit of a whiney moan, just because I know it annoys her, and want her to know how incredibly bored I am with the waiting, waiting, waiting to get the day started. These protests are always met with the same reaction: "Oh, hush." She's so dismissive of my needs sometimes.