I’m the force that saps men’s willpower and makes them succumb to temptation. Peter was supposed to be here, but I talked him into coming back to bed, and left him sleeping. So, you must deal with me instead of the reasonable one!
…okay, that intro sounds entirely wrong genre for the actual conversation.
Switching gears and genres:
I woke to a shake of my right shoulder, and tones of exhaustion and bemusement. “Love, you fell asleep again instead of drinking your tea. You’re supposed to be at the gym right now. Better let your trainer know you’re not making it in.”
I reached for the phone and blearily typed out a text, then looked up at him. “You look tired. Come back to bed?”
He hesitated, wavering between obligation and a strong desire to rack out. “I have too much to do…”
I applied the power of pre-coffee logic. “Since I’m not going to rack pull at the gym, you should make me do all the heavy lifting. That way I get all my exercise in, and spare you the bending.”
Of course, if I wanted to try to set it in cozy mystery, I’d start it instead with:
And all was quiet and well until the cat went from happy to be sleeping between us to suddenly remembering that a speck of white china gleamed from the bottom of the food bowl like a harbinger of famine and fimbulwinter, and needed to be immediately covered in kibble.
Yep, it’s all in how you tell it. How would you cast your morning?