Filter Post #43 - My wake-up call

If you've ever had the "pleasure"(?) of seeing me first thing in the morning, you probably realized right away that I'm not exactly a big freakin' ball of sunshine (before 11am). I am (to put it mildly) slightly irritable, my hair's kinda troll-like, my eyes and face are puffy, and I could probably pass for a voice-double of Marge Simpson...that is if I felt like communicating with actual words, rather than grunts.

If you've experienced otherwise in my company, that's really the exception rather than the rule.

I generally like to roll out of bed around 9am to be at my desk by 10am. I know, most of you have to get up a lot earlier than that, but fuck that shit...for real.

However, somedays I have to go by that little place called the public authority responsible for aliens (a.k.a where fun and happiness go to die) and I gotta rise and shine earlier than I prefer. Today was one of those days.

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This time, Mo offered to pick me up and drive me there and FeeBee was also going to come along. Mo's shift at the hotel ends at 7am, so he called me around midnight (this morning) to inform me that he was going to be at my doorstep at 8:15am. Knowing that I wouldn't be very psyched about having to be ready that early, Mo tried to sweeten the deal by offering to bring me some breakfast.

Free breakfast. Ok, now that's something that I'd get up for.

So this morning at 7:30am my cell phone rings and the voice on the other end says, "Hello, this is a nice, calm voice calling to find out if you're already awake. Don't hate me please."

It was Mo, of course, and I tried to convince him to push back his arrival to 8:30am, so I could sleep a little longer. To which he replied,

"Of course, I could...but your croissants will be cold by then. I'm buying them fresh, you know. So see you at 8:15"

So I was like, "Fine, torture me if you must with hot chocolate, croissants, brioche and lachs...whatever...I don't care."

He ended up not showing up until 8:30am anyway...which I kinda figured...because he's Mo. When he got up upstairs to my place he was bubbly and wide-awake...also because he is Mo.

Then he says to me, "I love mornings!"

And I'm like, "Dude, unless you've got to go to work you're rarely awake before 5pm."

And he's like, "I know, mornings are great, right?"

"5pm no longer really qualifies as 'the morning', you know?"

And, as if he didn't hear me, he replied, "Someone once gave me a t-shirt that said, 'I hate Mondays' but really, I don't."

Not even my worst morning grumpiness could smother his blinding optimism. That's how he rolls.

We ate our breakfast, picked up FeeBee and headed off to the Ausländerbehörde, using his new GPS program in his cell phone that gives directions in the voice of Homer Simpson.

And before you ask, no, there's no new news to report.