On workdays I get up at 6:30 (ok fine, sometimes 7:15). On weekends, with no alarm set I’ll usually rise and slowly shine around 8am. This past Sunday, I got up at ten. I honestly cannot recall the last time I slept in past nine. At first I thought the clock was wrong.
When I told my friend of the
remarkably lazy unbelievable occurrence, the first question was “and Melvin let you sleep?”. Yes. He always does. Aside from getting on the big bed once sunlight illuminates the room, Melvin will lay next to me without a single nudge, and only an occasional Chewbaca sounding yawn, until I get up.
Luckily for Melvin, I don’t abuse my power very often. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure he’d figure out the meaning of mutiny.