(no subject)

WHAM!!! The door opens and my sister walks in. In my hazy, sleep befuddled mind I wonder who's making the racket and I open one eye to squint at the intruder. She's carrying a big, black bag and announces to me: "I'm the bottle collector!" Then she proceeds to pick up the small empty plastic bottles that are lying around in my room, because I have been too lazy to put them into the basket in the hall. It takes me a while to get what she's doing; when I do I grunt something that's a mixture between a yes and a thanks and hope that she'll leave again, so I can go back to sleep.
That is, of course, the point when my mother joins her in my room. I will never understand how those two manage to storm a room and chat loudly while the inhabitant of the room is still in bed and had been asleep until they attacked. Even better is if they are talking/yelling/phoning in the hall, right in front of my door. Our walls aren't really thick.
I want to bury my head under my pillow, but that wouldn't do any good anyway, because the pillow is made of a special foam and is not as flexible as a normal one. I opt to flop onto my stomach and bury my head into the matress.


That is how a Weekend Morning looks for me. Or rather: A Saturday Morning. *sigh* I got up as soon as my family had left for grocery shopping. :P