I don't wake up well.

I used to be a morning person. I did. Really. At least, I thought I was. But for quite sometime, I've just not been terribly happy at that wake-up-get-up-be-active thingamabob that's called morning. So the fact that I was not all that amused at waking up at 5:30am today isn't a big suprise.

I managed to doze a bit and drag my sorry butt out of bed a bit after 6:00 - enough time to say (ok, grumble it a bit) good morning and goodbye to Eric, at least. And enough time to "wake up" before Dylan woke up at 6:15.

But after the initial "what the hell am I doing up and moving???" fog, the day went well. Very well. In fact, I waited so long to blog about it because I honestly thought that I would stop being cheerful and fall back into the funk that's been so damn pervasive over the past months.

This was not the case.

I was happy. All day. I even called a few people whom I've vented to so frequently lately just to give a huge break to that monotony (pixie - I didn't want to call you at work just to natter on about goofiness. But you are waaaay high on the list of who not to be grumpy around anymore. But then, you knew that already).

So to sum up: Life really is good. And I suppose that if there wasn't all the (occasional??) crap I would never fully appreciate the cool things. Like watching Dylan color for the first time. And the way the light glows in the morning across the dining room. Or the way that Eric never fails to kiss me in the morning - even if he thinks I'm sound asleep. And the fact that I still have these amazing friends near and far who are willing to listen to my venting and my chattering. Or the scent of fall in the air. And...