Just Hold My Hand and Don't Talk

Today, I woke up in one of the the best ways possible.

The husband snuck out of bed way before the zombie [ahhhhem. . . me] saw the sun. He left the house and secretly made his way back in without even a single hound making a peep. This is completely unbelievable in and of itself until I found out that the husband took the Chobie with him. For those of you unfamiliar with the Chobester, he is the alpha male (AKA: Leader) of the Luton canine-pack and alerts all others, humans included, to the impending doom of when a door opens or closes in this house - this also encompasses any sort of vehicle door within 500-feet of our home. It's always a disaster that is approaching when it comes to Chobie's sense of "door" judgement. With no Chobie, there was no imminent catastrophe threat alert. Thus, not a peep from my other ferocious pups that lie with and at my feet. I am so protected when Chobie's not here. . .

But once again I digress.

At 7:58 AM this is what I heard:

the husband: baby . . . g'mornin' . . . it's time to get up . . . *ever so softly*
me: arrgh. mmmmrrph. uh. *zombies*
the husband: I love you
me: aaaargh. grrrrrr. mmmmph. *one huge puffy eye gradually opens barely focusing. . . *

To which I see the husband standing next to our bed holding a grande non-fat caramel latte and a reduced fat coffee cake for . . . . . me. When I can finally shake the sleep from my drowsy deflated morning brain, I take the coffee with a big smile on my face. The husband then curled up next to me with his own Starbucks and we sat like that for 30-minutes.

There was almost no better way to wake up to this day.