Dawn of the walking dead

Before I have my morning happy juice, I can easily be mistaken for a walker.  I stomp around the house with bits of leftover drool hanging from the corners of my mouth, balls of yellow sleep threatening to glue my eyes shut, hair uncombed and wildly knotted, unable to communicate in anything other than a string of unintelligible groans.

The pfft, shhh, splatt of caffeine sloshing down into my mug and the bitter aroma of the black liquid slowly beckon me back to humanity.  I know enough to slap two slices of bread into the toaster and push them down.

Slurppp...

The hot black liquid sloshes over my tongue, jolting my heart back to its normal rhythm.  The smell of slightly burnt toast permeates the air.  Still sluggish, I clumsily slather on the last of the homemade cherry jam and hoist it towards my mouth.

Chomp...

Splat!!!

Ahhhh....

All eyes are on the prize!  In one corner weighing in at 22.5 pounds Tina the Bean.   In the other corner lights flashing, Robot Vacuum.  Rounding off the competition is 1/2 zombie.   The tension is mounting, its going to be a tight race.

   

The winner is..... ME!  Zombie or not, its the LAST of the homemade cherry jam!  I'm not above eating floor toast.