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Rise and Shine
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The Spectator
founded 2004 by ron cruger
A place for intelligent writers
A place for intelligent readers
 by Laramie Boyd
ecrboyd@aol.com
2013 Spectator Ron - The Spectator All Rights Reserved
C
          It started out exactly like it has for as long as I've been retired. I awake in bed, it's dark, my wife is next to me, and I have to get to the restroom, fast. Well, fast is the wrong description. After sitting on the edge of the bed for a minute or two to get my blood circulating and my eyes accustomed to the dark, as it's around 5:00 A.M., I slowly lift myself up and begin the journey.
          "Let's see now, where did I throw my socks and pillow last night before I dozed off," I say to myself. No use tripping over them on the way. That's it, I feel the end of the bed, now I turn right and steady myself with the top of the dresser, over to the door, open it and then weave my way down the hall, scraping the walls a time or two. I grab the bathroom door knob and enter. At last, the job done, now back the same way to the edge of the bed, I ease down, locate and don my slippers and pants, careful not to put both legs in the same hole. Then up again and on the way to the kitchen. Things are starting to look normal now and my gait is almost steady, heading for the cupboard and then the coffee pot.
          OK. Filter, grounds, water poured, push the start button on, and wait. I listen to the steam generated, and smell the aroma of freshly brewing java. It won't be long now. I'll go get the paper and settle in at the dining room table, cup in hand, scanning the front page, the sports page, and the local news section. Out the front door I go, looking up at the heavens, the full moon, and a few drifting clouds. The sun is beginning to rise up in the distance and I can make out that the paper is not on the driveway. Damn! "Where is that guy, I say to myself?" I told him what time I got up. Must be a slowdown on the presses, or maybe he overslept, or maybe he just doesn't give a nickel's worth of care. So much for his Christmas bonus! All of a sudden he comes barreling down the street in his new Honda, whips a U, then slings The Desert Sun on the driveway, yelling out "Good morning, Sir, have a good day" as he speeds off down the road. I guess he's not such a bad guy after all, I think, so courteous and all. And he has a couple kids and a wife at home, and bills to pay. Maybe I'll give him a few bucks anyway. But how can he afford that new Accord, I wonder, just delivering papers and all?
          Back in the kitchen, I find my favorite mug, add a little fat-free-fake-cream under some steaming fresh brew. AHHHHH! And then plop down at the table and open up today's edition. Hmmm. Obama's popularity plummeting over Syrian uncertainty as Putin throws him a life line with Russian strings attached; some NFL players likely to gain entry to Football Hall of Fame in spite of 40 players arrested this year alone; the Dodgers lose their 4th straight game with only 11 games to go; undocumented, illegal immigrants subject to fraud and financial abuse by unscrupulous individuals seeking cash for bogus promises of quick and easy citizenship; and what's this? Starbucks asks customers not to bring guns into the coffee shop when having their morning cup. They won't ban them, just ask them nicely while courteously serving them their latte. Same old, same old news.
          I'm beginning to think it's probably true that there's nothing new under the Sun. Think I'll crawl back into bed and start my crossword, Sudoku and crypto quip puzzles later. There's no hurry for that, is there? Life is good!