jeudi 20 juillet 2017
Dear Husband: Hitting Snooze is About to be Hazardous to Your Health
Dearest Husband,
Let me begin this letter with my sincere thanks. You work hard and put in long hours to give your support to our family, and the kids and I are grateful. We appreciate all you do. And I realize it isn't your fault that your work schedule requires you to wake up earlier than the freaking birds. I know that if given the choice, you'd sleep much later.
You know how I know this? Because every single morning, without fail, you hit snooze. Over. And over. And OVER.
Of course you want to sleep later. So do I. And this is problematic, you see, because technically I could – we don't have to get up at the same time. But thanks to whatever magnet-like quality the snooze button holds and the way your finger keeps gravitating to it, I'm always awake long before I actually need to be.
I don't even know how coherent you are when you hit that button, since you don't hear your alarm in the first place. So me having to wake up to tell you it's going off is like adding salt to a wound. And me having to tell you a bazillion times in a damn row is like adding salt to a cappuccino . . . horrible and unnecessary. I won't even mention the times when the alarm wakes the kids – who I then have to deal with – but not you, the person whose face is mere inches from it. That is a whole other rant in itself.
As you no doubt realize, sleep is a valuable thing. And I sleep the sleep of moms: restless, fitful, my ears trained to alert me to the earliest signal of nighttime coughing or peeing or puking from the other room. In a word, crappy. Usually the last few hours are when I finally relax enough to maybe get a teeny bit of restorative sleep. Or I might, if you didn't hit snooze the way Mariah hits high notes.
As you no doubt realize, sleep is a valuable thing. And I sleep the sleep of moms . . . In a word, crappy.
Yes, I appreciate that your alarm tone is a cheerful little banjo riff instead of a blaring OMG IS THAT AN AIR RAID WTF IS HAPPENING kind of thing. But while hearing a banjo once in the predawn hours is weird-but-tolerable, hearing it repeatedly is grating and obnoxious. "Oh, if only a banjo serenade could interrupt my sleep a dozen times in a row!" said no one ever, and particularly not your spouse.
Look. I'm not exactly at peak nice-wife status that early in the morning. Our bed lacks the caffeine I require to become an actual person. So depending on me to nicely and obligingly rouse you from slumber when your INCESSANT! LOUD! ALARM! fails to do it is pretty much taking your safety into your own hands. Because I can't promise that someday I won't just pummel you into wakefulness. Or that your beloved snooze button won't be stealthily replaced by a tank of hungry piranhas just waiting for that wandering finger to poke around in their vicinity.
A little suggestion: perhaps you could suck it up and, I don't know, wake up the first time your alarm goes off while I still have a chance at going back to sleep? Wouldn't you rather have an extra hour of uninterrupted sleep than spend an hour being woken up long enough to hit snooze every five minutes? It seems like a no-brainer. But then again, your brain clearly isn't functioning at that point in the morning. Because if it were, it would surely realize the danger in pushing your wife to the brink of total insanity every single morning for years at a time.
Think about it. Please. I'm asking you nicely . . . for now.
Love,
Me
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