I never think of myself as an early riser, but George does. On the weekends, he can be out until 10 o’clock, snoring away over there. I’m up at a cheery 7:30, just like every other day of the week. That seems normal to me, and it doesn’t feel good to sleep more than that. Sometimes, I steal a photo of him.
That’s my man, doing his thing. How freakin’ cute is his cowlick?