Remember when you wrote down the first thought you had this morning? Great. Now write a post about it.
“Hey, hey, dear daughter… I’m so proud to be your father… Each day is like a gift from God…” goes my nameless hot pink Nokia phone.
Ugh. Five more minutes. No make that ten. I hit snooze.
“There’s a million other guys who would leave ya. And when you say that you’re in love they won’t believe ya — ” Stevie Wonder blares out.
No, no, no. Fifteen minutes. I need fifteen minutes more. I hit the snooze icon flashing across my iPad’s screen.
And then Shane and Shane start playing their song again.
Welcome to my daily, one hour battle with my alarm clock — err, clocks, I mean.
In between reaching out for the different snooze buttons, my subconscious drifts back and forth between dreams of a seemingly pagan girl and a Red Tent; between thoughts of my unprepared breakfast and my slowly decreasing bath time; and between expectations of going home, of possibly looking into a pair of deep brown eyes.
I snuggle deeper into my bed. One hand holds my Nokia phone, still.
“Hey, hey, dear daughter…”
“I’m never gonna leave you…”
There they go again. I sigh in resignation. I hit the off buttons, stretch my arms, and let out a cry.
It’s time to get up.