Alarm clocks. The bane of human existence since 1807. (I’m guessing. I don’t really know when they were invented. But 1807 has a ring to it, so I’m going with it.) Sometime in the 80s, a man intent on torturing wives invented the snooze button. And society as we knew it began to crumble.
I’ve never been a user of the snooze button. I think it’s silly. If you want to sleep until 6:02 a.m., set your alarm to wake you at 6:02 a.m. Don’t set it for 5:45 a.m. and then spend the next 17 minutes slapping the stupid thing into submission.
Maybe it’s just because I’m a light sleeper. Maybe it’s because I’m not a morning person. Or maybe it’s because there’s nothing more grating that that “BEEP BEEP BEEP” sound. Especially when it occurs much earlier than you’d anticipated.
See, here’s how the snooze button works at my house. My husband, ever on the go, inevitably has to be up much earlier than I do. So his alarm goes off before the sun comes up on a regular basis.
You will note that, at the time of the first alarm, the entire household (four cats included) is sleeping soundly. And most everyone will sleep through that first alarm. Except for me.
Brian pommels the clock into silence and falls immediately back to sleep. And I lay there, now wide awake, with the knowledge that over the course of the next 20 minutes, that alarm will go off again. And again. And again.
A million thoughts roll through my head in those first few minutes. “Did he really hit the snooze button? Or did he turn the alarm off completely? What if he turned it off completely—he can’t be late for class today. I guess I’ll just lay here and watch the minutes tick by, and if he’s not up by 6:15, I’ll wake him up myself. Great. Perfect. Just wonderful.”
Finally, I feel my eyelids begin to get heavy again. Deciding once and for all that he’s a grown man who can wake himself up for class, I allow myself to drift somewhere between asleep and awake. My body relaxes, my mind begins to quiet, and I float toward dreamland. And then…
Now I’m mad. Not only am I awake, but Cat #1 realizes I’m awake and begins his “Mommy’s Awake So Let Me Wash My Tail and Knead Her Pillow Into Oblivion Until She Pets Me” routine. And Cat #3, our most vocal feline when it comes to meal time, descends from his perch at the foot of the bed and begins yowling for his breakfast. And my husband stretches, yawns, and opens his eyes to the world that I’ve been aware of now for exactly 17 minutes.
Now Cat #2 joins Cat #3 in the “Feed Me Now” campaign, and Cat #4 begins the “Catch Mom’s Toe Under The Blanket” game. And Brian and I lay a moment in silence, both of us aware of what’s coming next.
*Full Disclosure: my husband has not used his snooze button since very early on in our relationship. When we first moved in together, he was a 3-times-a-morning snooze button user. It became apparent a few months into our relationship that his addiction to the snooze button was a possible deal breaker. Eventually he came over to my way of thinking. And he does his waking up on the couch instead of in bed. Which is where I’ll be, sound asleep. Mostly. If Cats 1 through 4 cooperate.