Never Judge a Hutt Until You've Slimed a Mile in His Shoes

I have come to terms with the fact I am ornery in the morning. I can stand in front of my Mornings Anonymous group and admit with confidence that I hate the hours that exist before noon. I have, however, married into a world where everyone else in the house seems to live in another time zone about three hours ahead of my world.

I find little peace in the mornings with the excitement of a three year old thumping around the house shouting, "I love monkeys" while the puppy chases behind him. While it sounds cute and constitutes a moment worthy of Kodak, I tend to hiss and cower to my sanctuary...the bathtub.

Here is my dark corner of Tatooine. My lair of solitude. I can now say I relate to the creature known as Jabba the Hutt.

I, Jabba's Doppleganger, am living happily in my world of gluttony. Reading the biography of Walt Disney, drinking delicious ice water, and wandering through the tangents of my imagination. All of a sudden, my world was interrupted by a blonde intruder resembling the young Skywalker. As I sat on my makeshift watery platform, he proceeded to make demands and threaten me as though he had the ability to use his mind tricks against me. It was then I really understood the intergalactic crime boss. All I wanted was a trap door right where my son was standing. Not because I wanted him to be eaten by a Rancoor...I just wanted my peace returned.

So now I watch The Return of the Jedi with more perspective and realize that there are no bad guys in the world...just grown-ups who need a break.