What's that noise? · Apr 2, 05:14 PM
Sometimes I have those mornings when the alarm clock sounds and I think to myself, “Morning already? I just need another half-hour of sleep.” That kind of morning seems to happen a lot.
This morning was not one of those mornings. This morning my first conscious thought was, “What’s that noise?”.
I must have been roused out of the middle of REM sleep. I just couldn’t figure out what would be making that racket. I got out of bed and stumbled toward the sound (I purposefully put the alarm clock out of reach of the bed so I’m forced to get up). I reached the alarm clock and still my muddled brain couldn’t figure out what was going on. Somewhere, deep inside my conscious, questions were being thrown out at random: “What time is it?”, “What day is it?”, “What is this thing in my hands that is making so much noise?”. I was in utter confusion.
Finally I grasped the fact that I was holding my alarm clock but I couldn’t remember how to turn the thing off (even though there’s a snooze-button the size of a large popsicle stick prominently placed on the front edge of the clock).
Things started falling into place again: It was morning—the noise meant it was time to get up. Am I late? No. What day is it? Is it Sunday? Is it Saturday? (Oh please let it be Saturday—I could go back to sleep). No, it’s a weekday. But which one? Doesn’t matter they’re all the same this early in the morning. Push the snooze button and turn off that offensive sound. Ahhh… What now? Wake up Andrew for school… Now it’s painfully clear: It’s Monday. The start of a new week. I have to get dressed and catch my bus so I can get to work and… well, work.
My ingenuity worked again. By the time I made it to the thing making the loud noise and stood in front of it trying to figure it out, I was awake and ready to get on with the day (grudgingly I assure you). Today it just took a little longer to register. Drat my genius mind!
— Steve Harward
Comment
It must be tough, living with that genius mind of yours. I wonder how your family deals with it; I mean, they’re the ones who must sit in awe all the time. I’ll bet Andrew spends most of his time in awe: “How did my dad come up with that? He must be some kind of genius.”
Commenting is closed for this article.