The best part of waking up...

Scene: 6:15 am. I am up and moving after going to bed only four hours earlier (bad idea, by the way, in case you were wondering). I had set the oven to preheat a few minutes earlier on my way from the shower to my room, planning on returning in a few minutes to toast some English Muffins for breakfast. When I get back, I find my mom in full panic mode over the over, taking out some semi-cooked sticky buns that my sister must had left in there the night before and planned on cooking this morning. The following dialogue ensues:

Mom: Well this is just how I wanted to start my day! What they hell is wrong with you?

Me: Good Morning!

Mom: Don’t give me that shit! *Pointing to oven* You’ve just got to stop this, Thomas! I can’t take it anymore!

Me: (thinking) *Yea, cause this is the fourth time this month I’ve gotten up at dawn and almost burnt sticky buns, you psycho.* You’re right, I’m sorry.

Mom: *Storms off*

I’ve decided that my mother would be a really good white supremacist because she never makes any sense and is usually very angry.