I wake up to the sound of grunting coming from another room. I wasn't too concerned, more irritated that someone from another room was being too noisy and woke me up. I tossed and turned for a minute, debating on whether I should get up and start my day or just continue my beauty sleep. It seemed as though my decision would be made for me. As I laid in my bed I felt slight vibrations coming from another room. I knew this sound all too well. It was my husband's mechanical keyboard being jammed at by his meaty fingers. I became even more irritated by the persistent clicky clacky sound, and it seemed as though it wouldn't stop anytime soon.
I stretch, allowing my muscles to enjoy every moment of this stretchy sensation, as it's probably the last time I'll feel pleasure for the rest of my waking day. As I sit up in my bed a few thoughts and feelings are flying by in my mind. But my thoughts are once again interrupted by a sound in another room. I decide it's time to get up and start my day.
Stretching as I slowly walk, I drag my feet against my rug (which is sometimes used as a magic carpet in my country). My adventure stops only a few seconds later when my feet meet the kitchen, a destination I'm all too familiar with. If I leave this section of my house for more than 20 seconds it is legal for my husband and male neighbors to stone me to death. I decide, well, it was decided for me when my dad married me off to his co-workers son, that I need to make breakfast for my husb