a-hoping I don’t snore
b- hoping I didn’t steal all the covers
c- hoping I didn’t forget where I am and try to cuddle
my husband Shannon in the night.
The previous evening it had been decided that the rising time would be 6:30, which seemed fiendishly early to me considering the morning session didn’t begin until 9:30. I planned to skip a shower. I was
being lazy going for that perfect 2nd day hair look. But my wise and experienced roomies knew that we were dealing with a serious issue, one that would need plenty of time to work through.
This might not be such an issue if we were, say, on a camping trip. But at an event like Blogher, the last thing you want is to spend the day looking like y’all just rolled out of bed. This was going to take some serious organization and teamwork.
At the first sound of the 6:30 alarm, they sprang into action like a well-oiled machine. Well, Christine and Shannon did, anyway. Melanie and I scrooched deeper into our pillows and
slept cursed the morning stuck our fingers in our ears. Shannon and Christine rotated smoothly between shower and closet and makeup mirror. And Melanie was apparently not as asleep as I thought. As soon as the first two got their showers, she jumped up and took her turn in the bathroom. There was some soft whispering as Shannon very kindly decided to wait a bit before turning on her blow dryer.
I was still steadfastly resisting, telling myself I should be able to sleep for at least a little while longer. Problem was, I really needed that bathroom, which is not exactly conducive to restful sleep. I sat up in bed and decided to blog a bit, though I was not at all sure such a thing could actually be accomplished without an extra-large, extra-strong cup of Ethiopian coffee by my side. Especially while my brain was chanting, ‘bathroom, bathroom, bathroom’ in an ever-louder chorus. (I must note that the next morning, Melanie told me it was perfectly OK to walk in and use the facilities while she was in the shower. But this was my first morning there. We just didn’t know each other that well yet.)
Finally, finally the bathroom was mine. I stared into the mirror with my red-rimmed eyes wondering why the heck I didn’t pack visine, and hoping that my ‘perfect’ second day hair would save me.
By 8:30 in the morning everyone else was pulled together, standing at the door waiting for me to get my act in gear. And they looked GOOD.
Me? I still had a blanket crease on my cheek and I couldn’t find my shoes. Also, sadly, I discovered I’d left my mascara at home. Fortunately I’d been incredibly lazy the night before and hadn’t ever gotten around to taking off yesterday’s. So now not only did I have second day hair, I had second day mascara. Nice.
The next morning, having learned my lesson, I staggered into the bathroom at 6:15 AM. First. And
croaked crowed victoriously in the shower.