Alarm Clock

     Arrgh! I slap the snooze button on the alarm clock . . . again! Nearly every day, upon waking up, I mutter that I’m going to go right back to sleep as soon as I get home from work. And, every night, after I get home from work, I’m wide awake! Obviously, I lie to myself almost every day.

     Groggy-eyed, I make my way to the bathroom to get on with my day. I do all those vital bathroom tasks, with the door closed, much to the chagrin of my cat, Stormy, who is quick to voice her dissent. I don’t want her in my bathroom because she’ll try to eat the shower curtain, and this can be quite distracting for me (not to mention unhealthy for her).

     Somewhat less sleepy, and post-bathroom prepping, I step out of my bathroom. I’m greeted by a gray tabby cat who looks up at me while rubbing against my legs. She’s excited; I can tell. She’s eager for me to start my day because that means she’s going to get a belly-rub and some food.

     At the top of the stairs, I look down at her; she looks up at me and then downward, toward the bottom of the stairs. I say, “C’mon, Storms, let’s go.” At that moment, she’s off, running down the stairs while I simply meander downward, one step at a time.

     Once I’ve stepped foot onto the first floor and made my way to the front door, Stormy is already halfway down the hall. I take a peek out of the front door’s small window – to check the weather, to see if the day will be a windy one (it usually is). Then, I turn around to see Stormy lying in the middle of the hallway. Perhaps, she can get a quick rub from me before we hit the kitchen. Sometimes, I oblige.

     I open the ‘fridge and pull out the can of cat food to set out on the counter. When I turn around, I look to the floor because I know Stormy is going to be there, lying down, waiting for the belly rubs. I call her my rubbable Storms; she’s 15 pounds of fluff and fur, and the sheer act of rubbing her has an immediate calming effect on me.

     I set the timer for Stormy’s food (to warm up a bit before I add it to her bowl), grab a frozen glass from the freezer, pour in three-quarters of tea and one-quarter of cranberry juice, and take it to my computer desk. If I’m running late, I go straight for the coffee. While I wait for the timer to ring, I turn on the TV (set the night before to the Weather Channel), and then, I turn on my computer.

     When the timer rings, I feed Stormy her food. Then, I make myself a cup of coffee. I drink cold-brewed coffee that’s heated in the microwave. I add all kinds of stuff to this java: stevia, Splenda French Vanilla, an individually-wrapped Dove dark chocolate, and a splash of hazelnut CoffeeMate. Sometimes, I also squirt some Hershey’s caramel syrup in the mug.

     Finally, I can feel the dredges of sleep falling away from me. This is my typical waking-up routine. On those certain days, when I have to work in the morning, waking up takes much longer for me. I am still a tad groggy during those last two hours of the morning; unfortunately, I’m at work at that time, teaching a room full of students. They know I can’t do mornings, and I think they are somewhat entertained by that fact. When the noon hour arrives, I have miraculously awakened, and I think it’s because I know the morning is behind me.