Monday mornings are always a bit rough, but I think the grumpiness factor is only magnified when there is a late, Sunday-night football game.
Nate had promised to keep the TV low last night, so that I could sleep, but he apparently couldn’t control his excitement during the game. Because he was bouncing all over the place, yelling and waving his arms. I, meanwhile, was pretty much hanging onto the mattress for dear life, hoping that we wouldn’t flip over or maybe even take flight.
So apparently, the volume of the TV was the least of my concerns. 😉
I finally decided that if you can’t beat them, join them. I do like football, after all. So we both stayed up to find out that it will be the Giants playing our Patriots in the Superbowl. Nate then tried to explain to me — in great detail and with much gusto — why this will be a great match-up. But I’m fairly certain that I fell asleep to the lullaby of him talking, so in other words, I can’t remember a thing.
But it’s funny how all that excitement kind of melted away during the night and disappeared into our thick carpet. It definitely went somewhere, because there wasn’t a bit of it left this morning. Nate and I took turns groaning and stretching and mumbling about how Monday mornings should be illegal.
And really, I think that they should be. It’s not our fault that sometimes, Sunday-night football games run late. Monday mornings just always show up too soon.