Mondaze

Well, I awoke with less ambition than I had the night before. I always have more zip at night and commit to promises I never keep.

I’ll hit the sunrise Yoga class at the gym! I’ll head into the office early and get a jump start on the week! I’ll iron all my shirts!

I’ll hit the snooze bar for the 4th time.

When the initial alarm sounds, that’s when I start bargaining with myself:

I don’t need to go to Yoga class, I can do it right here. Kris gave me that DVD. Thank you Kris for these 9 minutes.

Oh, I don’t have to go to the office early, I can get it done right here on my laptop. Oh thank you Apple for these 9 minutes.

I’ll just wear a t-shirt to work tomorrow. No ironing necessary. Thank you Hanes for these 9 minutes.

Like most of you, my alarm clock sits next to my ear on a nightstand. I have it set to the one station with a signal. When it goes off at 6 a.m., some craggy talk show host greets me growling about politics.

The first click of the alarm sends my snoozebar arm in motion. I’m barely conscious, yet my arm exits the sheets like a military cadet. With the speed and accuracy of a Jackie Chan karate chop, it crashes down on the snooze bar, going limp when mission is accomplished.

Ah, sweet slumber.

Then Cam wakes up.

No snooze bar there.

GM