For Whom the Bell Tolls

I wake up at about 7am every morning. I physically get out of bed at about 10am every morning. In between I drift in and out of sleep and fight an incessant war with my alarm clock who makes unrealistic expectations of me. Rather than allowing me to awaken at my leisure, my alarm clocks goes off at 5-minute intervals for 25 minutes. After that, it makes no more suggestions, thrusting a neon-lettered "Wake Up Call" in your face. This last buzzer is immune to the snooze button and can only be turned off after the sleeper gets up, does a few jumping jacks, and recites the alphabet backwards.

Waking up should be a 3-hour process though. That hazy space between asleep and awake is where I do my best work. I sleepily bat around ideas that of course seem high-larious at the time. Awake, they seem more like something my best friend Dora would come up on her lunch hour at Crabtree & Evelyn. This morning I kept laughing to myself about how much everyone was going to love reading about my new snooze button, which a piece of construction paper would relabel the "shut the fuck up" button. Fortunately, my alarm gave me a "Wake Up Call" before I posted that shit.