Good Morning

I tend to wake up slowly. Except when I lurch from the bed as if electrocuted. This morning was no different. Half asleep, or clinging to sleep, with eyes shut, I told CSB about yet another fascinating dream. This one took place in Mongolia, involved my sister-in-law’s braids, a girl on a large hairy horse, the Falkland Islands and a complicated situation that could only be solved by distracting my mother with questions about fenestration.
Then I really woke up, which is to say I opened my eyes. I could see but not very well because I had not yet located my glasses.
I said to CSB: Did I tell you my dream?
He said: No.
I said: It was in Mongolia.
He said: And you pulled Fritz’s braids and the horse’s head was tiny.
I said: How do you know that?
He said: I just do.
I said: Is the paper here yet?
He said: No.
I said: What are you reading?
He said: The paper.
I said: I get it.