Waking up… it’s not for me. Let me sleep!

I set my alarm each evening with specific intention, knowing exactly when I need to wake up in order to do certain things.  Over break I work on campus at 10am every morning.  With bits of traffic here and there it usually takes me 45 minutes to an hour to get to work on time, meaning I should leave my house as close to 9am as possible. 

So, each night before I go to bed (which is usually well into the a.m. as staying up too late is a habit I’ve yet to break) I set the alarm, for 7am.  Waking up at 7am means I will get in a morning run and not have to worry about it in the afternoon; I’ll get a nice shower and have plenty of time to do my hair, make up, etc.; I may even make breakfast and leave for work a little early, grabbing some gas on the way.  Yes, as I set my alarm at night, waking up 2 hours before I have to leave the house will be a fabulous start to my day and it is a great idea to turn that alarm on, nice and early.  I eagerly ensure the alarm is set and even adjust the snooze setting so that it will go off every three minutes, instead of every ten; this way, even if I sleep through the initial alarm, I’ll be up again only three minutes later and I can still have a great start to my day! 

Regrettably, there is a morning monster within me and each morning when that alarm blares in my ear I absolutely despise the early rising optimism I possessed the evening prior.  I hit the snooze button furiously and return to sleeping as quickly as possible, in disbelief that I actually thought I might be able to wake up at such a ridiculous time. 

Too soon, the alarm blares again.  “What the hell was I thinking changing the snooze setting!” is the immediate thought that echoes through my head.  Yet, I’m so tired and I don’t want to go through the hassle of re-setting the alarm or adjusting the snooze button so I just hit it again, with even more wrath than the first time and I bury my head back in my pillow. 

7:27am, the snooze button blares for the 9^th time and I instinctively hit the button a 10^th time, unaware of how many groggy snoozing sessions I’ve now had; unaware that I have now ended the alarm, it only snoozes ten times.  This is terrible.  I’ve no chance of ever waking up because that alarm will not go off again.  It’s taken the hint and turned itself off, waiting anxiously for 7am the next day to ruin my life again. 

8:45am “Bethany, it’s 8:45!  What time do you work?!?” My dad is in my room, worried that I won’t make it on time, but I smile, all the while eyes still closed, “Dad, I don’t work until 11, don’t worry.”  He leaves and I’m back to sleep, ahhhh sleep, I can keep sleeping, sleeeeep, sleep, sleep, “CRAP!  I work at 10!  Not 11!”  The realization hits me as the clock turns 8:51am.  I hurl myself out of bed and frantically try to get ready, imploring my dad to make me a pb&j sandwich for lunch as I scrounge around for clean clothes finally settling on a sweatshirt only worn twice, some jeans and sneakers.  I brush my teeth splash water on my face, throw the hair into a ponytail, and grab my sandwich.  Car keys? Check.  Phone? Check.  Emergency Diet Pepsi? Check.  “Bye Dad!  Love you!”  and I throw myself out the door by 9:07am. 

This is about how my mornings have gone the past few weeks… varying slightly from my parents actually entering my room to calling me because they’ve already left for work and know all too well that I am definitely still asleep. 

The problem is, by the next evening I’m completely convinced that I can wake up early and get everything done before work that I want to… the cycle will not be broken. 

This morning there was a particularly unpleasant effect of my tardy slumber, I am wearing the worst sock of all time, ever.  Those of you who know me well, know that I find the task of searching for matching socks, frivolous and unnecessary.  I simply grab the first two I see of the same length and I’m set to go.  This morning I grabbed a long striped sock and a long grey one.  This grey one, to put it simply, sucks.  It doesn’t hold form and it stretches out and falls off your heel and has been bothering me all day.  I’ll make a mental note to avoid its mate when I’m fishing through the sock box tomorrow.