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Opinion :: My morning alarm clock.. never needs set
· 9:18pm October 31st, 2013
This morning, I had my unofficial resident cardiologist check my heart.
The "check-up" goes something like this:
*Cue light, gentle music, picture a lady sleeping peacefully in bed with visions of butterflies gently fluttering over a flower bed, and a smile on her face*
From out of nowhere the alarm, set at full volume, suddenly blares music. It's so loud, I am sure it has disturbed the rest of our ancestors in the cemetery 3 miles away.
This goes on for what seems like a full five minutes, as our formerly peacefully, sleeping woman jolts upright trying to figure out why there's a loose marching band invading her bedroom.
Before her eyes can adjust to the darkness that still surrounds her, she gropes for anything to tell her just what is happening.
She finds pillows, a bedspread, in the fog these two items do not have anything to do with the racket her ears are experiencing...then as quickly as the din started, it's quiet for a few seconds.
She lays back down, still not sure of what just happened, when suddenly the light from the adjoining bathroom flashes harshly in her face.
As her heart tries to find it's normal rhythm again, and her mind tries to reassure it that there is no imminent danger, our formerly sleeping woman fluffs her pillow and tries once again to settle back in to sleep a little longer.
Cue concert music.
After 26 years, this woman should know that this is hopeless.
The ceiling fan in the adjoining bathroom is activated, starting the loud hum that shakes the roof.
The shower launches its deafening (but "water saving!") torrent into the sides of the fiberglass shower, which with the wisdom of a modern man, was placed snuggly against the other side of the bedroom wall.
The bathroom door is flung open, followed by the bedroom door, the hall light activated and steps fall in the laundry room. located on the other inside wall of the formerly sleeping ladies bedroom. The dryer door is thrown open, then slammed shut, and the dryer reset as husband tries to un-wrinkle clothes he had no idea, just a few hours ago, that he would be wearing today.
The invasion continues.
While the shower continues to warm up, drawers are opening and closing, sounds of a large hyperactive squirrel begin. I am sure this is what is happening as it looks for the elusive nut that it has hidden in the bathroom. He tells me he is looking, in the drawer with the medicine bottles, for his caffeine pills -- as if HE needs to wake up.
The sound of a razor being turned on is next.
I know this means I have approximately 60 seconds before the next stage of the production begins.
For this next 60 seconds I am almost lulled back to sleep. Knowing I have a short window of time to go from wide awake to dreamland, I hurriedly try to fall asleep.
Then the buzzer on the dryer sounds again, making me jump, even though I KNEW that was coming.
I grab a pillow, slap it firmly over my ears, and feel like Lucy in a Peanuts cartoon, who has a dark cloud over her head indicating she's about to blow up.
The razor ceases its hum.
The drawer is once again opened and the rooting sounds I hear indicate my dear husband is looking for the, whatever it is, and can't seem to find it, so the drawer slams shut once again.
I glance at the clock.
A mere 5 minutes has passed.
I realize that I am NOT going to get back to sleep. My husband doesn't need to leave for another 45 minutes.
The shower door is flung open as if to say, "Tada! I am now ready to approach. I am here!" Then the door slams shut.
The pillow is firmly pressed against my ear. I am hoping for a slow country song to fill the air.
Then it happens.
There's a loud screeching from the shower, followed by low growling sounds, then a loud squawk.
Hidden in the loud verbalizing is a song. I'm never sure what song it is, and sometimes I swear Dean is composing a song to vent his frustrations or simply having a very animated conversation with himself.
Whatever the sounds are, they last at full volume for a good 10 minutes.
FINALLY the water saving, shower head is shut off, eliminating about 5 notches on the volume control knob, and everything goes in reverse.
The shower door slams open to release its prisoner, who's response is of course, to sing loudly of his joy at being released from the constraints of the small cell.
We've now, apparently, switched the country tune in for an Opera number.
The dog cocks her head to the side, jumps on the bed looks me square in the eye as if to ask why I'm not rescuing her partner in crime from the attack that must being going on behind the closed door.
The decibels have again reached glass shattering levels.
The dog whines, and collapses onto the bed with her nose mere inches from mine. I know what she's thinking. "Doesn't he know it's still the middle of the night?"
I explain that there is no stopping the insanity until Dean leaves the house to cover whatever news is about to happen.
I almost let a sigh of relief escape when I hear the sound of the mouthwash bottle being opened. A swig is taken and the swishing starts.
Then I hear teeth being brushed.
The faucet is turned on and off indicating the teeth are now ready for the day.
One last glimpse in the mirror is observed as we pause all the noise for this moment of silence. One must make sure each hair is in place. The final glance indicates that it's all good, and the light is switched off.
The bathroom door is flung open, then the bedroom door.
The hall light is turned on, as the happy camper makes his way to the kitchen to see if there's anything worth eating before he leaves.
The refrigerator door is opened, and shut.
I'm in luck. The footsteps once again approach our room, and enter the bathroom.
I have never understood what it is about the drawer in the bathroom, but the noise making culprit returns to his rooting, leaving with a tiny yellow anti-allergy pill.
As the steps approach the kitchen for the second time in as many minutes, I know the cupboard door will open and shut. If I'm lucky the anti-theft avalanche of dishes placed there by teenagers won't come crashing out.
I'm in luck. A cup is placed not so gently on the counter, as the refrigerator is opened once again.
I hear the milk jug open, milk pouring and the jug placed back in the refrigerator as the door is firmly closed.
FINALLY, the footsteps stop as shoes are now being put on.
There is a mix of throat clearing, coughing and then quiet singing.
Again the footsteps approach my side of the bed.
I open my eyes to see this 6 foot, singing, door slamming, every hair in place guy leaning over the bed.
There is a split second decision made.
He quickly realizes that he has crossed some line, someplace, and for some reason, the planets have not aligned to get a sweet send off from his wife.
He bravely leans in for goodbye kiss and heads to the door.
Now I feel bad. After all, shouldn't I be glad he loves to head out the door to work, instead of sitting on the couch with a pile of beer bottles littering the floor at his feet?
I sigh. Then get up.
The day has already started.
I shuffled bleary eyed out to the living room where a laptop awaits it's next writer.
As I glance out the window, I see the sun is rising. I have started a new routine, coffee.
I turn on the coffee pot, and listen to the soft whirring of the motor, and hear the coffee start to drip.
One hour of the day is gone. 16 or 17 more to go.
Oh, and the cardiologist says that I'm good for another day.
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