I am blessed in that--having married the God of Dawn--I don't have to wake up to the blaring sound of an alarm clock. Instead, each morning my beloved tip-toes into the darkened bedroom (even at 5 am, he's been up well before me), turns on the light and lightly rubs my back to awaken me to a new day.
Except this morning.
Today, I woke up to a light scratch on my back followed by, "Suuuuuu-eeeeeyyyyyy! Pig-Pig-Pig!"
"I'm not sure what's going on," I said, my voice muffled as I was still facedown in the pillows. "But if you want a divorce, I'd rather you just come out and say it. Let's not play these demeaning games."
"Oink, blog, tweet," said Blair.
"What--" I began.
"It's on your shirt," said Blair. "Oink. Blog. Tweet."
It all clicked in. The shirt was a free give away at a conference I'd attended months ago. In my world, free t-shirt = new nighttime lingerie.
"I get it," I said. "I'm not sure the hog call was entirely appropriate, but I get it."
"You're awake, aren't you?" said Blair climbing off the bed. He patted himself on the back as he walked out of the room. "Well done, Blair. Well done."
One hog call versus 10 years of back rubs and no alarms.
I'll live with it.