February 23, 2004 - Alarming Morning

Maybe someone will turn it off soon, I thought wistfully. But eventually, I had to admit it was time to get up.

In a back recess of my mind, I wondered if that car alarm could be mine. I know my new car has one, but then I remembered the time I accidentally set it off, and it sounded completely different: more like my car was honking incessantly.

I got dressed, put a coat on and took my dog, Una, for her walk. I could still hear the alarm faintly in the distance, but it was definitely not on my street.

You see, the universe has a way of keeping me from sleeping in. Maybe someone wanted to be sure I didn't miss this bright, sunny (but chilly) day. As soon as we got away from the car alarm, it was a nice, relaxing walk.

If it's not a car alarm, the universe finds other ways of awakening me. Last week, I got two calls from an unlisted number, where nobody answered on the other end. It was like a computer had phoned me, both times at 11:30 a.m.

Essentially, I work second shift. Most of my work is nighttime work. But what I've discovered is that the rest of the world never, ever adjusts to this. I'm continually getting calls from people who are surprised I'm working at 8 p.m. on a weeknight, although I've been doing this for more than a year.

I remember when I delivered pizza and had the same problem. Back then, the universe would awaken me with telemarketer calls, kids selling hoagies, neighbors blasting music.

This is partially responsible for my compressed sleep schedule. Most weeknights I'd estimate I get about six hours, tops. I'd be perfectly happy to sleep in longer many days, but the universe has other ideas.

"Come on, lazy," it says, and sends a car alarm my way.

But I usually don't mind, after I'm up. I look forward to a day of accomplishing things. After the dog walk is my exercise tapes, and that's when the ideas really flow. Like an idea for another novel, ways to promote my poetry book and random thoughts, such as wondering where you might go to get a universal remote that would turn off car alarms.

Musings an Online Journal of Sorts By Alyce Wilson
February 23, 2004 - Alarming Morning
	There's nothing quite like being awakened by a car alarm. I was having pleasant dreams about The Gryphon, which is one reason I was still lounging in bed, though I knew I would get up soon. But there went that alarm, somewhere nearby: "Beep beep beep beep beep beep ooh-ah ooh-ah oo-ah honk honk honk honk honk honk zooo-oop zooo-oop zoo-opp!" And then it would start all over again. While it wasn't right outside my window, it was definitely close.
Maybe someone will turn it off soon, I thought wistfully. But eventually, I had to admit it was time to get up. In a back recess of my mind, I wondered if that car alarm could be mine. I know my new car has one, but then I remembered the time I accidentally set it off, and it sounded completely different: more like my car was honking incessantly. I got dressed, put a coat on and took my dog, Una, for her walk. I could still hear the alarm faintly in the distance, but it was definitely not on my street. You see, the universe has a way of keeping me from sleeping in. Maybe someone wanted to be sure I didn't miss this bright, sunny (but chilly) day. As soon as we got away from the car alarm, it was a nice, relaxing walk. If it's not a car alarm, the universe finds other ways of awakening me. Last week, I got two calls from an unlisted number, where nobody answered on the other end. It was like a computer had phoned me, both times at 11:30 a.m. Essentially, I work second shift. Most of my work is nighttime work. But what I've discovered is that the rest of the world never, ever adjusts to this. I'm continually getting calls from people who are surprised I'm working at 8 p.m. on a weeknight, although I've been doing this for more than a year. I remember when I delivered pizza and had the same problem. Back then, the universe would awaken me with telemarketer calls, kids selling hoagies, neighbors blasting music. This is partially responsible for my compressed sleep schedule. Most weeknights I'd estimate I get about six hours, tops. I'd be perfectly happy to sleep in longer many days, but the universe has other ideas. "Come on, lazy," it says, and sends a car alarm my way. But I usually don't mind, after I'm up. I look forward to a day of accomplishing things. After the dog walk is my exercise tapes, and that's when the ideas really flow. Like an idea for another novel, ways to promote my poetry book and random thoughts, such as wondering where you might go to get a universal remote that would turn off car alarms.
Moral: The universe doesn't have a snooze alarm. Copyright 2004 by Alyce Wilson Musings Index
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