The fifth of the sixth

SNOOZE ALARM

6:30 AM, off it goes.  Nobody has to be awake at that hour, but the next hour of torture begins.

I used to bound out of bed on the first signs of light coming through the window on the East side, now I am not to gently nudged by that mechanical device man has created to add another crease in my cerebellum.

I hate those things.  It's hard enough to part the fog in the morning.

After the first ring, little things seem to happen out of nowhere.  You need to scratch your butt because, and only the Lord knows why, of some itch that has been created from absolutely nothing that makes sense.  But you gotta scratch!  Then of course minutes later your nose itches.  Do you use the same hand?  Critical decisions at such an early hour. 

Then the alarm goes off again.  Maybe if you caress it with feather like strokes it will take longer to go off again.  Or perhaps you smack it with the flat of the hand in a vain attempt for a terminal shot.  Early in the morning in that twilight sleep, I like to lay on my belly.  But the most comfortable side to place my head is the one with the nostril which is full this morning.  Meaning, I have to breathe through my mouth and that doesn't work.  And then the &%(&^&^% alarm goes off again.  Now the dogs are whining and want to go out. 

Bring on the Pike Place Roast cause it's over and I can't enjoy the modest rain we're having until I have my Starbucks at my side.

On top of all that the spell check doesn't work.

All of this is God's way of getting even!