In the shower, I found myself unable to open the cap on my facial soap. It's a flip-up cap, but for some reason it wouldn't flip. Pushing it had no affect. My soft and water-logged nails just bent as I tried to pull it. I tried twisting it off, and the plastic just gouged a hole in my finger. Of course, I didn't have any tools handy, there in the shower with me.
Frustrated, sleepy, and in danger of spending the day with an unwashed face, I started to whimper. Then I spotted the sharp corner of the towel bar, and struck the lid against the edge (perhaps with unnecessary force). It finally popped open, and I could continue with my morning routine.
He was sitting on the floor, waiting for me. I turned off the shower, opened the curtain, and leaned across him to retrieve my towel from where it rested on the toilet. I dripped water all over him. He sprang startledly to his feet, gave his head a good shake, and with an annoyed "Mrow! Meow!" he hurried off.
She was lying on the floor by the dresser upstairs, sprawled with limbs sticking out everywhere, chin on her shoulder, looking at me through barely-open eyes. "Good morning," I said to her politely. She always responds to the sound of her name, but this morning she was still mostly asleep. "Meh," she grunted, with only enough energy for half of a meow.
I pulled a shirt out of the laundry basket and put it on. I started to grab the pants on the top of the pile to complete my outfit, when I realized I was about to combine paisley pants with a brightly striped shirt. I know on Queer Eye they combine crazy patterns and say it's okay, but I would have just looked ridiculous. Fortunately my morning caffeine set in just in time to stop me.
I pulled on the dark gray pants instead, told my cats not to get into too much trouble, and headed off to work.