Before we retired to bed last night, I told the wife that I wanted to do a couple of things this morning, including getting a haircut and picking up our prescription meds at Costco.
As usual, she said she wanted to come along with me, after which, could I please drop her and her mom at the beauty shop in the early afternoon, wait for their call, and then pick them up. Please? You know I'm a nice guy ... I said okay.
This morning, she got out of bed around 7:30 and pronounced her hunger. I slowly opened my eyes and muttered, "Okay," and promptly fell back to sleep.
About an hour later, she came into the room, kicked the bed, and said, "Aren't you going to take me to breakfast?" I guess I was, wasn't I? So I got out of bed and did my morning thing, and was sitting at the steering wheel in no time.
See? I'm a nice guy. But I did have one thing to tell her ... why didn't she tell me she wanted to go out to breakfast when she woke me up the first time? See, while I was in my early morning slumber, I dreamed of making myself a lovely omelet, and had my mouth and tummy set on it.
Sometimes I feel as though I need to give her a class in "Advising Craig 101."