Most mornings I try to wake up early and go running outside. This refers to the nighttime side of 5:00 am. In the morning. Before the sun is up. Rhiannon is pushing to have me committed to a mental institution any day now.
It isn’t really the fact that she minds me getting up. I’m quiet and I try not to disturb her too much. If I happen to wake up a few minutes before the alarm and turn it off before quietly slipping out the door, life that morning is like a small slice of heaven sitting perfectly on a plate with a dollop of whipped cream and one perfectly placed maraschino cherry perched just so on top (assuming heaven is the sort of place that goes with cream and cherries, and if your version is anything like mine, it does.)
(And my dollops of cream are really more like “I hope you can find your pie under that mound of whipped cream, and if you can’t, hey, no worries, because we more pie over here and you can just have another piece later.”)
The one real problem Rhiannon has with me getting up early is that I tend to sleep through alarms. Not so much turn off the alarm in my sleep, but more of a steady sleep right on through them, the kind of reaction that would make you a little suspicious that I might have stopped breathing at some point during the night and forgot to start again. So the alarm is on her side of the bed.
(In my own defense, I sleep through radio/music alarms. I wake up for buzzers. Rhiannon doesn’t like buzzers. Her choice.)
When the alarm welcomes us into the newly minted darkness of another morning, she gets to wake up, wake me up, and then hit the clock. This she does without complaining.
(Have I mentioned lately how much I love you, dear?)
As long as I’m asleep, she’ll keep prodding me until I get up. A gentle nudge, a poke in the back, a swift kick to the rear, whatever it takes really until I respond. For the past two mornings, she says I have talked to her several times through a few rounds of snooze and told her that I am sleeping in leave me alone and go shower already, which I believe.
I believe it. I just don’t remember it.
Not one word.
I think the alarm is getting moved to my side of the bed next week.