Now that I have a grown up job I have to get up early. Like, 5:30 am early. I’m not a fan.
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5:30 am: I am typically in the middle of a wonderful dream… Like, The Boyfriend is giving me control of the remote. He’s smiling at me, arm stretched out to hand over the clicker, saying “let’s watch what you want to watch”, and I am smiling back and reaching to grasp it. Just as the teeny tiny tippy-tips of my fingers come into contact with the shiny black plastic my alarm goes off, all “IT’S MORNING TIME! NO MORE SLEEP TIME!”
…No, that’s not quite right. My alarm isn’t so much cheerfully nudging me out of my happy coma-like sleep like a four year old on Christmas morning…It’s abusively screaming “HEY YOU LAZY SACK OF WORTHLESSNESS, IT’S TIME TO GET UP!” like I would imagine a Drill Sargent with a redwood tree up his ass would sound.
The BF calls my alarm clock the Angry Cricket. I think Homicidal Cricket is more like it.
Now, if I were a responsible grown-up type person I think at this point I would turn off my alarm, get out of bed and probably go work out to a Sweatin’ to the Oldies video or some such thing. I am not, however, very good at acting my chronological age. I hit snooze and burrow back under the covers for “just fifteen more minutes.” Within seconds I have returned to my coma-like state in my cocoon of covers.
5:45 am: “YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING, WORTHLESS, LAZY SLOUCH! I TOLD YOU TO GET UP FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO!”
Oh, it’s my alarm clock again. It sounds grouchier.
Once again, I sit up just long enough to hit snooze. Sometimes I even fall asleep still sitting up.
6:00 am: “I CAN’T BELIEVE I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO WAKE UP AGAIN! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”
I really, really hate that alarm.
Usually by this point I decide that I do, in fact, need to get up. I turn my alarm off (this is what I call the Danger Zone because I’m quite likely to lie back down after turning it off) and most of the time I’m a good girl. I begrudgingly get out of bed and stumble into the living room to gather my things. Before leaving the bedroom I usually look one last time at the bed and at The BF, who has somehow managed to continue snoring through all of this. Typically, I look back just in time to see him sleepily scoot to my side of the bed to take advantage of the warm spot I just vacated.