Snooze Me

There are a few fundamental things that I need in life; like eating.  I love eating.  I love good food.  I also love… um, let’s skip that one.

More importantly (believe it or not) is sleep.  I love to sleep.  I love how amazing I feel after a recharging night’s rest.  Nothing compares to going to sleep with a migraine, and waking up free of that pain.  The peace and comfort you find yourself in, nestled in the softness of your mattress, with the tension in your body gone is absolutely heavenly.

Yet, as much as I love my sleep, the need to be an active and productive human being outweighs everything else in my life. 

I enjoy the early mornings.  It’s quite.  It’s peaceful.  There’s a serenity in the fact that nothing is up besides me and the soft glow of the morning sun.  I am unbothered, and free to do whatever I am compelled to do without interruption or obligations. 

Unfortunately, that means I need to get up first.  That creates a problem. Especially when you realize that to be productive the following day and still have some time at the end of the night to wind down means that I didn’t go to bed until after midnight. 

On the days I wake up late, here’s what happened:

I probably went to bed late.  I was exhausted, but I had to finish <whatever seemed to be important this time.>  The last thing I remember is reading the clock, doing the math, and groaning at the realization that I will get <insert amount of sleep less than six hours.>

Some people remember their dreams.  On nights like these, I don't.  I close my eyes, and instantly the alarm clock is going off hours later.

I set my alarm early solely so I can hit the snooze at least twice.  It’s a satisfying experience to wake up in the middle of the night, go to the bathroom, come back to bed, and discover that you still get an extra hour of sleep before you have to be up.  It’s like a bonus!  I do the same thing with my alarms.  I set up a bonus snooze or two before I have to be up.

Come that second snooze, wherein I am now on my final stretch of sleeping, something happens.  I become aware of a cat throwing up, I get a phone call, the dog starts growling at something.  Whatever it is, it wakes me up.  I take care of the situation - however I see fit - and lay back down.  If my alarm isn’t going off by then, it is about to.

Well, now the sanctity of that final bit of sleep has been spoiled.  Thanks, <above distraction that took that moment away from me.>  There’s only one way to right this wrongdoing.  That’s right:  Go back to sleep!

I look at the clock, and decide that I can afford to go one more round of hitting the snooze.  It’s really not an option.  This needs to happen.  You can’t start a day off on a bad note like that if it’s humanly possible to fix it.  So I go back to sleep.

If something goes wrong again, I’ll repeat the process.  At this point, I’m making deals with myself.  “Okay, I can do this, but then I have to move really fast [ha ha] when I get up.” “I’ll take my shower when I get home instead.” “I’ll just bring canned food for lunch.” “Screw it, sleep is more important than food.  I’ll just suck it up, not pack a lunch, and make it up to myself when I get home.”

Without fail, instead of hitting the snooze, I turn the alarm off altogether.

Sometime later I wake up with that refreshed, slightly dazed feeling of a good night’s rest.  My muscles are relaxed, my mind is clear and… my sixth sense kicks in.  I’ve been asleep too long.  I look at the clock.  The numbers don’t make sense to me.  The clock is obviously wrong.  Why would it be that time?  Come to think about it, the sun shouldn’t be up by now.  Good god, what day is it even?  Where the hell is…?  When do I…?   Do I…?

Shit, I’m late for work!