Dear Alarm Clock,
I hate you; I want to smash you with a hammer. Often, I’ve imagined walloping you — turning you into a clock salad, an assembly of gears, wires, and electronic katzenjammer. You’re my personal nemesis, my morning IF — Irritating Factor. However, I also acknowledge that this hate of ours is imbued with a tinge of complicated love.
Sure, I’m not proud of the ungodly hours I dedicate to wrestling with you, or the words I may or may not have spouted in frustration at your persistent beeping, especially after you beep for the 8th time in the morning.
Oh, the agony!
And then, please, dear alarm, don’t even get me started on the horrific sound pollution you impose onto my dreams, causing Leonardo DiCaprio to look aghast and discontinue Inceptioning me.
But let me clear up one thing, dear alarm clock, my quarrel isn’t entirely with you. It’s not your fault, really. I mean, you’re just doing your job — a job I’ve assigned to you, no less. A job that, ironically, has me dancing a stress choreography under the moonlight, tiptoeing ‘round my room to verify your settings. Yes, my problem is not with you — it’s with me and my overbearing dose of house-of-cards-thinking.
It’s not personal, and it seems I am not alone. Alarm anxiety is a real thing! Who knew?. Phew — I do feel better. ha. ha. ha.
I also totally confess to being a compulsive time-checker — you know, just to avoid your blaring, eardrum-splitting wake-up call. Sweet, right? You see, I’m absolutely aware of your value, begrudgingly, I must admit.
You see, your cold-hearted indifference to my pleas for “just five more minutes” is, in its own annoying way, a discipline. Your relentless determination to yank me from the divine embrace of my dreams has shaped me into the early bird I am today — a begrudging, bleary-eyed, coffee-dependent early bird, but an early bird nonetheless.
Sure, you have the power to make me do the time-check around 2 a.m. But I must concede, I’d be a hot mess without you structuring my days. And I would be remiss not to mention how sophisticated you’ve evolved over the years, with your fancy “gently escalating” alarm sounds and sunrise mimicking features.
Or my favorite. Vibrate to wake.
So, though I won’t stop dreaming of inventively smashing you on some frustrating mornings, I salute you, my dear alarm clock, my morning wake-up call, my worst enemy, and my unexpected ally.
Here’s to us and the anxiety-induced love-hate relationship we share. May we continue to have many pre-dawn squabbles and moonlit frustrations for years to come.
With reluctant affection and minor homicidal tendencies,
Sleepy Sam
