Alarms are for chumps

Once, in a time long forgotten, I would set my alarm clock every night. I like to make sure that I have enough time in the morning to get certain things done. I need to shower, get dressed, maybe eat something, maybe shave, maybe use the computer, and almost definitely poop. I should probably point out that the last one there can be time consuming.

These days I find myself almost never using the alarm. I have unwillingly transcended to another level of being woken up. This is the doing of three individuals whom I will list here:

Zoe – The ten-month-old. The most frequent culprit. She is beautiful and sweet one moment, then suddenly a human air raid siren. This happens throughout the day but is most jarring at 5 am. Currently, she sits next to me and her mommy shoving Cheerios into her mouth and is very excited about it.

Phoebe – The three-year-old. She is what happens when a Disney princess meets Godzilla. Phoebe is almost always up with the sun. She will then begin talking to herself very loudly or singing (also loudly) until one of us parent things shows up. She then leaps from her toddler bed and runs to the playroom. The loudness continues. Sometimes there is a crashing sound. Did I mention she laughs like a super-villain? Yeah, that happens too.

Pepper – The cat. The neurotic, not to bright, Prozac-prescribed floof ball that clearly thinks she is in charge. If by some miracle the children don’t get me up in the morning, Pepper will find a way. Maybe it will be coughing up a hairball. Maybe she will climb over Lisa (the previously mentioned wife and mommy) and perch on my stomach, purring loudly and pressing all her weight on me. Maybe she’ll just get right in my face until I wake up to blue eyes and whiskers telepathically saying, “Are you up yet? How about now? Now? Oh good, you’re up. Feed me.”

The plus side is that unless I have to be in work very early, I have plenty of time to do everything. The negative is that for a good 20 to 30 minutes I’m in a state of shocked auto-pilot which, on one occasion, had me putting apple juice in my coffee.

Alarms? We don’t need no stinkin’ alarms!

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