That being the easy part.
I have a problem. I am addicted to my snooze button.
Things were so much simpler when I was a singleton. My stereo was always in my room, so I’d programme it to wake me up gently with a nice CD or the morning radio show. After about 20 minutes of music, my alarm clock (strategically placed at the far side of the room) would go off, and I’d promptly get up, switch it off, and start my day.
Mr E Man ruined this perfect arrangement. He usually starts work at 7 am, and has this weird habit of getting there early so he can read the paper in the car before he starts. So he gets up at 5:30 (on the dot, no need for an alarm clock) and leaves the house at 6.
When we first started dating I’d try to stay in bed when he got up, but I quickly realised that I never got any decent quality sleep after he got out of bed. A boyfriend who fell asleep a good hour or two before me in the evening was another incentive to change. So I started getting up at 5:30 too.
(During this acclimatisation period I was always extremely dopey when saying goodbye in the morning, and Mr E Man later confessed that he used to play a little game with himself of messing up my hair to see how big he could get it to go. What I thought was affection was actually known as The Bushmen of the Kalahari Challenge).
Now that we have our own place, the sound proofing is better and I can stay asleep while Mr E Man gets ready, waking up only when he comes in at 6 to say goodbye. He usually makes me get out of bed at this point – I’ve come to love my “me time” before leaving for work in the morning, but I need a bit of help getting it started. A quick snuggle on the sofa is a good way to achieve this – I’m more or less compus mentus by the time he actually walks out the door.
But the last few weeks have been completely messed up. Mr E Man currently starts work at 6 am, which means he gets up at 4:30 and leaves at 5. No way in hell am I getting up at that time. But without a stereo in the bedroom I’m left to depend on my cell phone’s alarm, and I’m having a really hard time getting out of bed.
Take yesterday morning for example. I heard the phone go off at 6 am on the other side of the room, groggily staggered over to it, hit snooze, and took it back to bed. I proceeded to have a dream about hiding my ringing phone in a bag within a bag within a bag, and then I woke up to find that I’d hit snooze again in my sleep.
While waiting for the alarm to sound again, I wondered about the people in the cars I could hear swooshing past outside. Were they glad to be awake during this lovely early morning light, or were they cursing the husbands, wives, kids or jobs that were responsible for this unnatural state of affairs?
I fell asleep again just as the alarm went off.
I eventually got out of bed just after 7. By the time I’d made breakfast and lunch, had a cup of tea, dealt with the cats, packed my work clothes into my panniers, stretched, and brushed my teeth, there was no time left for the blog reading or writing I usually do in the morning, let alone my many ongoing Scrabulous games.
How strange that I’ve come to crave the very thing I used to hate. And how annoying that I just can’t seem to achieve it without Mr E Man there to wake me up and make sure it damn well sticks.
This morning I put the phone outside the bedroom (which is a kitty-free zone), and found that the immediate attention of two cute furballs when I went out to switch it off was a good incentive to stay out of bed and away from the snooze button. I’m not sure if this is a permanent solution, but hopefully it’ll work until Mr E Man goes back to his 7 am starts.
Oof. Oh well, these photos always suck, right? And at least it’s better than the one on my permanent resident card:
