Snakes Don't Bite Their Owners

Monday

"Harriet..... HaAarRrieeTt!!! GET OUT OF BED AND GET READY FOR SCHOOL!"

I awake to the sound of my mother screeching like a hyena from downstairs, yelling at me to get out of bed and get ready for school. So, naturally, I roll over and bury myself deeper into my covers. I assume this is what it would feel like if I was a piece of lettuce inside a tightly wrapped burrito.... then I realize I'm hungry and crawl down the stairs anyway - making sure to thomp as loudly as I can with each step (my mother hates that).

I plonk myself down on one of the old tattered seats that surround our wooden dining table. My mom got them at an antique store a while back - she's obsessed with old stuff. and I mean OBSESSED. The whole entire house is littered with ancient things we're never going to use... like who needs a broken typewriter, 57 bird ornaments and a bunch of cans of soup from 1989? ... in case you're seriously thinking about it, the answer is nobody. But despite all the random junk she hoards, my mother is an extremely organized person.

"Remember, I'm not going to be here when you get home from school because your father and I have that event with Peter's parents that I told you about." She had never mentioned some stupid event before and I don't even know who Peter is but whatever. "And Emily is going to Alayna's for a sleepover... and I know it's a school night but I said that it was okay because of the circumstances...." Like I care. "So you'll be here by yourself. Is that okay?" I let out a grunt of acknowledgment and resume slurping up my soggy cornflakes.

I am not a morning person.

By the time I'm done eating, I can open my eyes enough to read the clock. Quarter past eight. That means I've got exactly 10 minutes to... oh wait. I don't care. I trudge back up the stairs, bumping into a stack of books and narrowly escaping catastrophe as I almost knock my dad's prized swan onto the ground. He inherited it from his mother when she had a heart attack and it's made of glass so it's pretty fragile. I don't get what's so fascinating about it... it just sits there on the table looking stupid. There's gotta be some kind of hidden treasure inside of it or something.

I chuck on a pair of jeans that I found inside a heap of clothes on the floor, and sniff a few T-shirts before settling on the third... and then changing my mind and picking up the first one again. Once I'm clothed, I rummage around in my backpack debating whether to throw my cactus inside so I can put it on Jessica's seat in science class. I quickly decide against it. 

Now at this point, a persistent knocking at the front door tells me that Roger's waiting outside. So, I gather the sack of items I managed to conjure and slither back downstairs, making my way through the living room and out the front door. 

"Wow, you're 4 minutes faster than usual. Normally we don't leave until at least 8:27!" Roger likes to remind people that he can tell the time as often as they'll let him. I often let him. "And that means we can take the route past the lake without having to run the last 600 feet!" ...And so begins the treacherous walk to misery

Mondays are the worst.