When Ol’ Dutch retired from being on call 24/7 more than 30 years, he was suddenly free to enjoy long lazy mornings with coffee and silence. Finally I got to sleep when I wanted and get up when I wanted.
Try as I may, I will never understand the old men around me who pop out of bed at 5 a.m. and hustle down to the local beanery to have coffee. Looking at some of their partners, though, I guess maybe the morning view for those men was too much to handle and coffee sounded pretty good.
The time away down at the coffee shop, spinning tales to their buddies, gives their significant others time to apply her war paint and adjust her ‘do enough that she won’t scare the neighborhood children and dogs.
In my early retirement years, I enjoyed the ministry of sister pillow and brother sheets until Trixie came along. It wasn't long before I became aware of a terrible character flaw in her nature: she bounces out of bed early in the morning all chipper and happy.
Now while Ol' Dutch is happy to hang in the sack and celebrate the morning with lazy and well deserved rest, Trixie insists on doing things to aggravate me. Things like turning on lights, banging pans, talking on the phone and carrying on a conversation with Cooper. All of this would be fine if it were happening at a decent hour like 10 or 11:00.
Our trip to Kansas recently to help the number one son with his house remodel only exacerbated the issue. Working all day and on into the wee hours of the morning, Ol' Dutch began to experience what is known as “old age.” That's where it takes you all day to do what you used to do all daylong.
With the kids at work during the week and Trixie engrossed in a project of her own, I arranged it so that I could catch a few mornings of needed rest
But then came the weekend and the grand kids were home for the day.
I know they are my grandchildren, but somewhere along the way, they got wired all kinds of wrong. Instead of languishing in bed until the lunch bell sounds, they pop out of bed raring to go and come looking for me at first light.
Their mom, Tinkerbell, and Trixie did a pretty good job corralling them away from me most mornings. Occasionally, though, I would awaken to find one of them juggling two eggs from the carton left out during breakfast preparation.
Nothing launches Ol' Dutch out of bed faster than the thought of an omelet being mixed on his face by a 1-year-old. She may be only one year old but reigns with a certain amount of terror when old people are tired. The 3-year-old is some better but still insists on seeing grandpa in the morning.
I already knew about Trixie's affinity for having all the lights in the house on at the same time but little did I know her aversion to shutting the bedroom door to keep out these munchkins.
One morning I dreamed I was in Stalag 13 and being interrogated by the Nazi horde with a bright light shining in my eyes. Awakening with a start I found the 3-year-old inspecting my eyelids with a flashlight.
At this point a man has to rise to the occasion and get up and start the day. Funny, though, because by that time, the grandkids and Trixie had disappeared having done their duty in getting grandpa out of bed.
There is an old saying that says “there is no rest for the wicked” but let me assure you around my house there is none for the “weary” either. Not at least until Trixie goes on vacation or the grand kids go to college.