The first thing I do everymorning is hit the snooze alarm.

That is the signal for W to leave the spoon position and roll onto his back. I put my head on his shoulder, and we twine our legs together like the twist-tie on a bag of sandwich bread, and he puts his arm around me and just hold each other.

I feel so safe, so loved in that position. It's the best part of the day, I swear.

Of course, Goofball (The Cat) wants to feel the love, so she piles on top. And we feel the love, too, because she purrs. Loudly. Her favorite thing is to try and be touching both of us, preferably with her head near W's hand for a bit of DIY petting. (My hand is occupied under my own head, damping down all that chest hair to minimize tickling.) This usually involves a tail in my face or some heavy pressure on my bladder, but I can deal.

And we stay this way, the cat hopping off and on each time I have to stretch out and hit the snooze alarm, or the single time W hits his alarm. No snooze on his, unless we're travelling, in which case we use BOTH our phones and annoy the hell out of our neighbors if the hotel has thin walls. Which many of them, of course, do. I feel sorry for them, our hotel neighbors, what with two alarms going off every five minutes for a half hour, hour at a time. They probably want to get back to sleep.

Tough.

Marital tip: you should probably check out your potential partner's attitude to snooze alarms before you marry/move in/stay the night. We got lucky: we both like snooze alarms, and boy do we know how to use them.

Eventually, however, we have to get up. One of us will go make the tea, the other makes the bed. W usually takes tea duty: he hates making the bed. Too many pillows, he says, although he doesn't complain when he's actually using them.

The Goofball stays with me, as I am the main Fridge Operator. Must have been hungry this morning though, as she was off after W like she was shot from a cannon.

I got the recoil.