Argh. I did that thing this morning where I turned off the alarm when it rang at 7:30 and then said, Ten more minutes, ten more minutes; and then I heard the kid in the hallway screaming as he does every morning, and his mum saying, “Be quiet, people are sleeping,” to which I muttered, “Got that right”; and then I finally sat up and blearily looked at the clock and discovered that the ten more minutes had turned into forty-five. Then I went to the kitchen and saw that the mess from having Cole over to dinner Sunday was still hanging out ’cause I still hadn’t done the dishes that didn’t fit into the dishwasher the first time around.

When mornings start like that, you sure want to turn around and go back to bed, ’cause didn’t some wise man once say, “Sleep—that’s where I’m a Viking.” ? Instead, you just have to put on a Strokes CD, dunk your hands into sudsy water, and do the goddamn thing. And then you can make some walnut-and-sage toast with Vegemite, and a cup of milky English Breakfast tea, and then you’ll feel much better.