Back to Webster’s. Alarm clock: a clock that can be set to buzz, flash a light, etc. at a given time, as to awaken a person.
Although we have alarm clocks in each bedroom, they are not always effective. Our son tends to rise to a level of consciousness sufficient to shut the alarm off, but not sufficient enough to remember that he did so. He then blames either someone else for messing up his alarm or blames it on clock malfunction.
Our daughter’s alarm clock is also often ineffective. She has the same annoying tendency as my Southern man: she sets the alarm for about 30 minutes before she actually needs to get up. Then, when the alarm music goes off, she hits the snooze for that extra 9 minutes of dozing bliss. Unfortunately, she doesn’t always have the music volume high enough to overcome her unconsciousness and the bands will play on…and on…. She is swimming in denial about this, however, saying that sometimes she just doesn’t feel like rolling over and extending her arm to slap the snooze button.
Then there’s my Southern man, who also sets his alarm to go off early so he can hit the snooze, so he can sleep for an extra 7 minutes–several times over. Unless, of course, he’s so out of it that he knows not what he doeth. There was the time his alarm went off and he answered the phone. The dial tone and my laughter brought him to his senses. Then, there was the time his alarm went off and, next thing I know, he’s fondling my bed-head-haired head, searching for a snooze button. He didn’t stop until I informed him I was not his clock. Of course, that was far better than the time he slapped the “snooze button” with his hand. Nothing like a good slap in the wife’s face to start your day off. Talk about a rude awakening!
Fortunately, we have a back-up system: a cat. Unfortunately, she doesn’t understand the word “weekend”. During the week, everyone in the house gets up between 5:30 and 6:30 a.m.. In this hour, our cat, Chloe, walks into our bedroom and meows several times. If there is no response, she will go into our daughter’s room and start meowing those long, mournful meows (you cat owners know what I’m talking about). This is effective in both waking our daughter up and putting her in a grouchy mood. If we are awake enough, I will ask my Southern man to close our daughter’s door before the cat can have at her. Our son sleeps with his door closed. Smart boy.
This ritual works alright for everyone during the week. See, what the cat really wants is to have the shades up and/or the windows opened. She has two favorite window perches: the living room window and our bedroom window. She then sits in them, watches the birds, cars, squirrels, chipmunks and whatever else moves, and waits for the inevitable friendly neighborhood cat to appear.
Unfortunately, Chloe is not friendly towards them. She will puff up to three times her normal size. Being pure white, she ends up looking like the stay-puff marshmallow kitty. Sometimes, she’ll also growl, spit and hiss. Meanwhile, the cat outside either ignores her or moves off, probably wondering what her problem is. Sometimes, Chloe tries to keep them in her sights by running to a window in the next room. Smart kitty.
So, this morning, Sunday, the cat started her meowing right on schedule. We were awake. My Southern man closed the daughter’s door. Chloe kept on meowing. Being too tired and lazy to go all the way to the living room, I went ahead and opened the bedroom window shade and sash, in the hopes she’d be satisfied and silent. She was; so was I…for about 4 minutes.
The window she sits in is right next to my side of the bed. She uses the bed as both a launching and landing pad. My side of the bed. So, she got tired of looking out that window and charged off to the living room window. Then, she got tired of that and charged back to our bedroom window.
This is how our morning went, today:
Chloe jumps off window sill onto me. “Umph. CHLOE!”
Chloe runs over my Southern man, lands on the bedroom floor with a thud and slight squeek, runs down the hall. Good riddance.
A few minutes later, we are peacefully dozing off. Chloe jumps on the bed, runs over the husband, launches off me and lands on the sill.
A few minutes later, she jumps off the sill, lands on me, “Uff. @#*&?%! CHLOE!”, runs over my Southern man, lands on the floor with a thud, charges down the hall.
A few minutes later, she’s baaaa-aaaaaaack!
This went on for a good 30-45 minutes. It seems she would wait just long enough for us to start dozing off, then wake us up. She was a furry white snooze button! Very effective furry white snooze button; we got up.
This afternoon, following our daughter’s brilliant suggestion, we moved the screen from the window next to my bed to the other window, which has no screen. There are a couple plastic storage bins under it that Chloe can use to launch and land, if she needs to. The important thing is, she won’t be using our bed or us, anymore.
Once again, we can rely on the real snooze button. Although, I’m thinking maybe I should wear a helmet to bed. Heck, I already wear a mouthguard for grinding my teeth; might as well go to the next level!