I’m not a huge fan of alarm clocks, or rather, in these modern times, phone alarm apps. Regardless of the get-your-ass-out-of-bed device of choice, it is a very unsubtle way to wake up—essentially, a heart attack every morning.
Even with noise options like soft, gentle soundbites, or perhaps even a favorite song, it’s inevitable to learn to hate that sound/song that stirs you from slumber each morning, and even begin to fear it—no matter the context its heard in…
Immediately, upon auscultating that sound, your arm flails about searching for a snooze button to smack, and then you realize, as your hand makes contact with your friend’s face, that your friend only received a text message.
That noise has been tainted for-the-ever and its sound will trigger a manic attack against its source indefinitely.
Noises aside, there are many morning stresses, such as waking up before the alarm, especially when the first digit of that number starts with a 5 and is followed by two more digits and a giant “AM.” It’s too close to go back to sleep and too early to get up. So, I just lie there thinking, “my alarm is going to go off; it’s going off in 30 minutes, 10 minutes, 5 minutes…” and to avoid that terrible countdown, do I…
A) Turn it off, knowing I probably won’t fall asleep again (but probably will–secret alarm sabotage?).
B) Keep it on and wait with complete anxiety till it makes its cry signalling my departure time?
C) Wake up, preemptively turn alarm off, live a full day of life, and go running!
D) Wake up, forget to turn it off, and then get super angry that I didn’t bypass that noise for at least 1 of the 5 days of the damn work week.
There is another premature awakening occurrence which happens a freakishly frequent amount of time to me: waking up 1 minute before the alarm is to go off. Am I psychic? I don’t know. I know I feel cheated because I had another minute left, and also blessed, because I have just under 60 seconds to silence the demon. I also feel a little magical.
It’s a give-in that every morning I will wake up (unless I’m dead [that’s not cryptic at all]) and I will more than likely be waking up to a loud, obnoxious sound of some sort. I’ve accepted this as a lot we humans have to bear in life. However, I do have control over how many times that noise needs to be heard. Let it be known: I HATE the snooze button.
Now, I do hit this button occasionally, nobody is perfect after all, but only as a safety as I slowly make my way from my cocoon of warmth that is 5 blankets and three pillows (sometimes the bed is more like a fingertrap and the more I try to escape, I am only entangled further in its clutches). It happens. I get cozy. I take a long blink, just to rest the eyes a moment longer. Then BAM! It’s 9 minutes later.
However, I prefer to sleep a sound, uninterrupted hour and wake up once rather than wake up every 9 minutes for an hour. That’s not restful to me and I feel cheated out of sleep. Then there is the incessant snooze noises infiltrating my brain matter every 9 minutes until I give up the fight for just a few minutes more and get myself prepared for the day. Awful.
I respect that many people use this tool each day and feel that they are stealing a few more moments of sleep; they relish this notion as they burrow under their downy soft comforters, but I am not of this camp. Perhaps I overstep my boundaries, but I have been known to access phones and disable snooze features, set the alarm for a non-snoozable time, or hide the phone altogether.*
It may be slightly mean, but nothing is as mean as a sleepy me.
Waking up is tough, and I’d like to perform this arduous task just once a morning rather than suffer through it multiple times within a short period of time—torture. The only exception? Naps. In which case, no alarm need set and the sleep can take its course.
P.S. It is a fair assumption to say I’m not a huge fan of fire alarms either. It always sounds off when I cook and am well aware that I’m burning the food; I don’t need the mocking shouts from the bleeping, circular device I am unable to reach even on a stepstool (as I attempt to disembowel the batteries from its pulsating body). I also have a one bedroom apartment—I’ll figure it out fairly quickly.
*Note, in extreme cases, objects have flown across the room and met their demise.