The best thing that happened this morning

After a bizarre dream of dogs turning into bears, theatre backstage mazes, carnival of caveman costumes the musical alarm sounded like a savior. It sounded slightly wrong though. Not my alarm. It was my husband’s alarm that usually rings when I have left already. A train whistle followed the alarm. Whistle of the train I should have been on. I wasn’t. I was in bed. Soft warm bed. And my head resting on a pillow.

Outside, all the snow that had melted and letting people grow hope for spring, had returned in triple quantity, the amount that in some parts of the world would close schools and gift a day off, but in Estonia just signs that the drive to work would be slower than usual.

No panic though. No sprinting around. No frantic grabbing of random shirts from a shelf. And no experiments of pushing an arm into a sleeve of a shirt and trying to gobble up a sandwich at the same time.

Quickly and calmly my hubby and I got dressed, made coffee and tea, ate toast with jam, washed the cups and saucers, I found five minutes for mindfulness, skipped all the other things we enjoy or consider important in the slower mornings, like reading or exercise, dug the car out from the snow, and drove to the city in a row of other snail slow cars.

I arrived only a little bit late.

I enjoyed being on a passenger seat and my hubby driving the car.
I was happy that my hubby and I had breakfast and the car ride together.
I was well rested,  almost as good as holiday morning rested. 

Perhaps I should reconsider my mornings at home and arriving at school too early, and sleep longer instead.