Desperate scenarios

As I woke up this morning to birds chirping outside of Gus' window...wait...why is that bird so loud? Um, because I left his windows open all night long and the monitor is on a table right inside the window. Great- he's probably frozen and going to have a respiratory illness on top of this virus we've been fighting together. Dusty's already up, so I send him in to shut the windows. In his usual "stealth" mode he goes in to shut the windows. More like busts through the door and slams the windows shut through the banging blinds. AND, Gus is awake. It's 6am on Saturday morning. Luckily, he does go back to sleep! Me-no way. We've already been over this, I'm awake now.
So, I lay in bed and think of what to do with this day. I can see sunlight through our tiny windows in our basement "apartment". I could get up and go on a walk. Nope, the pinched nerve in my back back won't allow for that. (another pregnancy perk) I'll get up and go look at the garden, maybe pluck some weeds. Nope, it's too wet still. I could go down the street and have coffee with one of the desperate housewives on the "lane". Nope, those don't really exist. This gets me to thinking, what if we did live on a lane where any of these crazy scenarios took place. Like, what if I had to go down the street to tell my girlfriend that 10 years ago, my son had ran over her mother in law who was running from the house to tell her husband that she was having an affair. The reason I'm telling her now is because my 2nd husband just left me seeing as how I made him go to jail for running over my other girlfriends husband, which of course was years ago as well because now he can't even drive since he's in a wheel chair after being hit by a car fighting in a playhouse against my lover who was originally married to the girlfriend who's husband my husband had run over.
See- isn't that way juicier than what we all have to talk about? People say, reality TV isn't real. Of course it isn't. Cause real life is pretty boring according to our standards that we've set for TV to hand out to us. I'd like to think that a camera set up in our house might catch some pretty good comedic episodes appropriate for primetime. It would start with Gus screaming "Daddy Robinson" from his bed. He has to yell because we unlike most "good" parents have put a lock on the inside of his door so he can't come sneaking into our room. Real mean huh- has worked, is working, will work. I drew the line when a large portion of my house was painted in butter and chocolate syrup one morning. This is our reality.
So what did I ever decide to do this morning? I settled for making homemade french toast with my own blueberry compote. That turned out pretty well. I don't even like coffee anyway.