What’s ‘Good’ About It?

To say I’m not a morning person would be an understatement.

I tend to hold a reasonable amount of disdain and even hostility towards whatever wakes me up. Whether it’s my alarm clock, a garbage truck or another human being.

Now, if I’ve already been reminded by an alarm clock that it’s time to exit that blissful realm of dreamland, and then you give me a gentle nudge or a softspoken reminder that it’s time to get up, I’m not exactly going to click my heels about it, but I will be somewhat responsive.  If you choose to forego the alarm clock and be the first point of contact for my awakeness?  Tread lightly.

When I was about ten years old, my cousin found this out the hard way. He decided that he was ready for breakfast and chose to use a giant stuffed snake as a wake-up call. It wasn’t a fluffy, soft serpent, either. It was one of those stiff carnival toys that feel like they’re packed with melted Styrofoam.   He walked right up to the bed I was sleeping in and thwacked me into reality as hard as he could.

Needless to say, I was less than pleased. I went into a rage-blackout of sorts. I screamed bloody murder and cried harder than he has seen me cry to date.  I then tore down the stairs into the shadow of my aunt, where I wiped my still-quietly-flowing tears on her nightgown and sniffled indignantly as my cousin was scolded.

And let me tell you, the boy learned his lesson and was never again the one to wake me from a peaceful slumber.

It doesn’t generally take people very long to learn their lesson, even if they don’t make such a dire mistake. When I’m sleeping in the company of others, I generally wake up when they do – whether from their alarm or the general hustle and bustle. If this happens, I’m not cranky, especially if I’m a fan of said company. I am often, however, entirely incoherent. My coworkers have learned not to bother making much conversation with me before I’ve made my coffee. My family has learned not to ask me any direct questions until I’ve been up for a good twenty minutes. My roommate knows not to take it personally if she doesn’t get more than a muffled noise that can be loosely translated to “have a good day” before she leaves for work.

I also have a serious addiction to the snooze button. I remember using the snooze in high school, but it was always just one troop of the Get-Up Army, since my mother would then open my bedroom door, turn on my light and, should it come to this, scream my name up the stairs. I never had to rely on just me and my alarm. In college, it was never really an issue because the idea of using a snooze alarm with someone else in the same room was a level of negative attention I simply refused to bring upon my still-fairly-timid self.  My decision was justified when my junior year roommate would sleep through her alarm for an entire hour, leaving it to go off for five minutes straight after every nine.  I’m fairly certain if she hadn’t disappeared on eight or nine day drug binges (okay, I actually have no idea where she disappeared to when she did this, but that makes it sound more interesting) at least once a month, I probably would have smothered her in her sleep.

Yet now that I have come to my adult life, living on my own and having to get up at around the same time every day for work, I find myself addicted to the snooze. I try to trick myself by setting my alarm half an hour earlier than necessary, just to allow for some snooze time. But I am quicker than I give myself credit for and just use this as EXTRA time to snooze, thus getting up at the same time anyway. That is, late.

I have no idea why I do it. I hate it. Those five minute bursts of sleep are not worth it. It’s like self-inflicted torture.   Juuuust when you’re drifting off to sleep again…BAM. Alarm. Kinnnnnd of in a dreamlike state…..BAM. Alarm. It’s completely unsatisfying and not at all helpful to my already disenchanted, post-dream, morning persona.  With no one to be like, “No seriously, you need to get up now.” I simply bop that alarm and flop back onto my bed.  This could go on for anywhere from ten minutes to an hour, sometimes longer. It’s sick, really.

I’ve tried all the tricks. Putting my alarm on the other side of my room does not stop me from diving right back under the covers. Setting two alarms doesn’t help either; it just makes me more irritable. I have yet to find a solution that consistently works for me. Some days I just need to snooze once and I’m good to go, somewhat grumpy, but overall pretty up-and-at-’em. Some days I cannot possibly move until I realize I have to leave my apartment approximately five minutes ago and get dressed faster than Superman in the telephone booth.

It’s not like I hate mornings, necessarily. There have been some mornings where I’ve gotten up early and showered and watched some television and ate breakfast, all long before I had to be wherever was making me wake up at some ungodly hour.  I enjoyed having that time. I loved feeling like I had the whole day ahead of me still. In moments like those, I wish I was a morning person.

But by all definitions, I am decidedly not.

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~ by Valerie Anne on 12/13/2011.

One Response to “What’s ‘Good’ About It?”

  1. two morning a week I need to be out of bed by 4:50-5am. I set my alarm for 4:30am and just keep hitting snooze. I hate that I have to set my alarm for so incredibly early. So I had a plan to set it for later and not hit the snooze. But what if I hit the snooze out of habit and oversleep???

    the plan to get out of using the snooze button seems near impossible.

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