waking up

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Poltergeist

All that hacking into walls and floors has awakened a malevolent spirit from his eternal slumber in the dark dungeons of the Bartlog estate. At night he silently floats up, passing floors and walls as if they're not there. Then he closes his cold, ash-white bony fingers around Mrs.B's alarm clock and changes the waking-up time. First it was just a couple of minutes, but this morning he made us get up at six o'clock.

Worst of all, it took us - or rather my sweet balloon-belly - a full ten minutes to realise we still had an extra half hour of sleep before us. So with much mental swearing we returned to bed.

Mrs.B accused me of having reset the alarm clock. Seriously, does she think a full-time semi-professional morning hater like myself would turn back the alarm just for the heck of it? She's the only one that ever touches that alarm. So there's only one conclusion:

We have a poltergeist in the house.

Abolish Mornings Now!

6.27 AM/6.30 AM: Mrs.B's alarm goes off, with its high pitched voice. 'Time to get up', she shouts in the optimistic voice of a true morning person.

I ignore her. I will not listen to her, nor wake up, because it's not 6.30 yet. Her alarm clock is wrong and mine is right. My alarm clock/radio says it is 6.27, so hers is wrong. I don't care if she says that hers is right because it has the same time as the television's clock downstairs (which gets its time from the cable company). I don't need to verify my alarm clock's time because I know I am right and she is wrong.

Moreover, it is entirely besides the point whether it is 6.30 or not. I do not get up before 6.35. My schedule would fall apart in shambles if I got out five - nay seven! - minutes before my waking up time.

Mrs.B will not listen to reason, especially not when it's proclaimed as a series of mumbling noises and grunts from under the duvet. She throws the blankets away. My body is suddenly confronted with the winter cold and goes in shock.

Before I can recover and smash my wife to death, she's already stomping around and opening closets and making noise and throwing items on clothing on the bed. I feebly reach for the duvet but she's on to me and uses physical violence to get me up.

I'm very tickly.

So she storms out and I follow her down the stairs, trying not to trip over and mentally preparing myself for another glorious day.

---

6.57 AM/7.00 AM: Mrs.B barges into Wolf's room and yells in a high pitched voice: 'Time to get up'.

Wolf ignores her. He will not listen to her, nor wake up. Mum is wrong and his biological clock is right. It's still too early to play, so mum is wrong. He don't cares if she says that its 'waky-waky time' because he doens't have to pee. If he doesn't have to pee it is clear the he is right and she is wrong.

Mrs.B will not listen to reason, especially not when it's proclaimed as a series of mumbling noises and grunts from under the duvet. She throws the blankets away. His little body is suddenly confronted with the winter cold and goes in shock.

Before he can recover and smack his mother on the head, she's already stomping around and opening closets and making noise and throwing items on clothing on the bed. Wolf feebly reaches for the duvet but she's on to him and puts him on his potty.

Ok, he DOES have to pee.

So she pushes him out of the room and he climbs down the stairs, trying not to trip over and mentally preparing himself for another glorious sandwich with chocolate paste.

 

False Alarm

I couldn’t set my mind to work today. I had a lousy night’s sleep, lying around for ages, tossing and turning. I think I slept too much when I was ill last week. I also woke up in the middle of the night, I suspect when the person that steals blankets for a living who happens to lie next to me, had to go to the bathroom.

But the worst thing was waking up:

She: ‘Oh crap, it’s 7.05 already. You’ve forgotten to set your alarm clock. Wake up!’

Me: ‘Mmmph.’ Just great, I think, after such a night a miss my bus and train. I raise my head to make eye-contact with my alarm clock. Wait a minute, I didn’t forget to set it…

Me: It’s not five past seven, it’s five past six in the morning.

She: Oh, yes. You’re right... Sorry.

 

Thirty-five more minutes left to sleep, but of course I didn’t get a moment’s shut-eye anymore.

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