the 6am shuffle

May 27, 2010

It’s one of those days.  Y’know, those days.  I was reading this post last night (“Sneaky Hate Spiral“) on one of my favorite hilarious blogs, laughing so hard I was crying, and now it just seems prophetic.  Prophetic, or ironic.  Ironically prophetic.  Something.

This morning I had to get up at 6am.  Not, “oh, I’d really like to get up at 6am and take the 7:15 bus to work today so I can be awesome and get things done,” like I do sometimes when I have a surplus of coffee and bad ideas, but “if I don’t get up at 6am it will end up costing me $9 in exact change on Tuesday, because I won’t have my new bus pass and the old one will be expired.”  Blah.  So my alarm went off, and like every other morning, I stumbled out of bed to hit snooze, then dove (pretty much literally) back under the covers.  This diving business caused the wineglass on my bedside table to fly across the room and shatter.  Yay!  Shattered glass all over my carpet, in the dark, when I have to get out of bed barefoot in 9 minutes.

Clearly the solution was to go back to sleep anyway and ignore the glass all over my floor.  Yeah, that worked well when my alarm went off again.

It’s worth explaining that me and my alarm clock have a really unsatisfactory relationship.  It yells at me, I turn it off, we wait 9 minutes, and repeat.  And repeat, and repeat…  By the end of this process, I am not at all more awake than I was before we began.  Somebody recently suggested that I move it across the room.  Yeah, started doing that about 6 years ago.  It worked a lot better in my college dorm room, where I had to jump off the top bunk onto the cold tile floor to turn it off (also, it was the first year I was doing it).  I’ve tried switching back and forth between obnoxious radio stations and the buzzer, I’ve tried using my phone, watch, and alarm (my phone and watch alarms are scarily easy to silence), I’ve tried hiding the first two in strange places around the room, I’ve tried purposefully setting my alarm early to allow for a token number of snoozes (I actually still do this most of the time), I’ve tried just about everything I could think of.

This morning, though, I had an ephiphany as I dozed amongst the shattered remnants of my fifth broken wineglass this year.  I should turn the light on!  Not that dinky lamp next to the bed (tried that), but the overhead light that I despise so much!  Hooray!  Problem solved!

Yeeeeaaaah.  Not so much.  Alarm went off, I somehow managed to avoid most of the broken glass in my frenzy to reach it and hit snooze and flick the light switch, and then I slept quite peacefully under the fluorescent glare.

Dammit.  I think I need an intravenous drip of coffee, timed with my alarm.

My day only improved from there.  I talked to the upstairs folks about yesterday’s little dog-attacking-the-gardener-guy-when-nobody-was-home incident, assuming they had been the ones to unscrew the panel closing up the dog door.  Nope.  They had nothing to do with it.  Turns out that my dog, who’s previously broken the latches that closed the door temporarily (such as at night, or on a cold day, or when I was out of town, whatever), is not to be deterred by even stronger measures.

She ripped the wooden panel out of the door.  It was attached with a couple of 2″ screws. Yes, my dog is The Destructor, manifesting as something equally cheerful as the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.  I have now tripled the number of 2″ screws.  I am cautiously optimistic.

After dealing with that, taking The Destructor on her walk, and biking up to campus to get my shiny new bus pass, I caught the last bus to work, as planned.  Hooray.  I totally had enough time to get more coffee, too, but I wasn’t sure, so I didn’t.  Dammit again, for lost opportunity.

On the bus, I think I slept.  I must have, because I don’t remember.  Luckily, my circadian rhythms, while not timed at all to get me out of bed, are set up perfectly to wake me up right before my stop.  So I got up, got off, went to grab my bike off the front, all proceeding as usual.

And then the bus started rolling forwards.  I was still unfastening my bike.  Let me tell you what will wake you up, even if all sorts of shenanigans with your alarm clock won’t: a regional bus rolling into you.  Hell yeah, that’ll wake you up.

I yelled and it didn’t stop.  I abandoned my bike and jumped on the curb.  Didn’t stop.  Yelled again.  Oh, now it stops.  So that brake thing, you press it with your foot and it protects us innocent riders from certain death, just FYI.  Safety first!  Thanks, RTD.  Not only have you now stranded me to get frostbite, you have also now tried to run me over.  At this rate, I will be lucky to survive riding to work long enough to get my PhD.

So yes, indeedy, I am fighting the sneaky hate spiral today.  I’m spending the day coding, too, so that’s sure to go perfectly smoothly and make me cheer up.  Right? Right?

I’m doomed.


One comment

  1. Well done avoiding the bus-crushing. Maybe you just need a bed that dumps you on the floor. FWIW, it wasn’t just you that couldn’t get up this morning. Me, and a lot of other people have been having that, based on reports. Something in the air?

    One of my favorite novels, Fisher’s Hornpipe, has a character named Frank of Oregon (a “travelling philosopher”, if you will), who had sage words for a day such as yourn: “Some days you need a cup o’ the joe to get up and get a cup o’ the joe.”

    So there you go. IV-drips can come out at night. Maybe the coffee maker should be next to the bed?

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