Something tragic is happening in our bedroom. And get your mind out of the gutter. That activity in our bedroom is fine (well, more than fine actually!). I'm talking real tragedy here.
We have what I consider the ultimate in clock radios. It's got some nifty functions I truly appreciate. Forward and reverse buttons for setting the time. Two separate alarm settings. A choice of waking up to an alarm, the radio or both. A wonderfully wide incremental snooze bar.
And therein lies the tragedy. The wonderfully wide incremental snooze bar. On our nifty alarm clock. It's breaking down. Oh the horror!
The clock radio resides on my side of the bed. I don't know why I'm in charge of it, but I always have been and most likely always will be. On weekdays, the first alarm sounds at 6 am. I reach over in the general direction of the alarm clock and slap the snooze bar. Four rapid clicks. Each click is worth five minutes. I do that while still asleep without even being consciously aware I'm doing it. The radio keeps playing at a low volume, peaceful and soothing. When the blaring yet still somehow gentle and not-too-alarming alarm buzzes again, I give that bar another slap. Four more rapid clicks. To buy another 20 minutes. During the second round of snoozing, I'm beginning to have a small awareness of the world around me.
Some time between the first and second rounds of slap click and snooze, Wendy arises and begins her day. The second alarm is set for 6:45 am, which, when I stop to think about it, is ridiculous. I rarely drag myself out of bed before 7:30, usually around 7:45. Which necessitates several more rounds of slapping and clicking that wonderfully wide incremental snooze bar at 20 minutes a pop. Each round brings me a tiny bit further out of my peaceful slumber.
But I think I may have slapped it too many times. Because lately I have to press in just the right spot on it's wonderfully wide surface to get a response. The right spot now, instead of being wonderfully wide and lengthy, is only about half an inch long and wide. And unfortunately for me, finding that teeny-tiny special place requires a higher level of consciousness than I am used to providing.
Bah. Nothing lasts forever.