I was in the vague hinterlands of sleep–mmm, I could get up, but I don’t wanna, maybe if I snuggle up to the warm thing* in the bed I can fall back asleep, sleep is gooooood, it can’t be that late, the alarm hasn’t gone off, will it go off? it’s a new alarm clock maybe it isn’t programmed oh who the hell cares we like sleep, yesss my precious–when the UPS guy pounded on the door.
“Mail?” I said groggily, staggering out of bed.
“Take a robe,” said Kevin, who has learned by this time about my tendency to forget the little details.**
Medium sized box, very heavy, I don’t recall ordering…HEY! Harcourt?
And lo! My author’s copies of Nurk have arrived! Woot!
Quite a few copies, and I’m wondering what to do with ’em all (which I always wonder, right before they all vanish…) I’m stoked.
Then I went back to bed, and then the alarm went off, except it wasn’t coming from the nightstand, it was coming from…the trash. Where I had thrown the old alarm clock, bane of my existence. My old alarm clock was dreadful, and god, will I never be rid of this thing?!
It wouldn’t shut up. I almost sent it beeping to the landfill, was dissuaded by the words “bomb squad” and dug through a full trash bag to find and disarm the damn thing. (I seriously considered using a hammer.) And now it is out of my misery.
So really it was a mixed bag of a morning, but hey, all’s well that ends well. And I can always nap.
*Kevin, in this case, who is a far more efficient space heater than Ben, and mysteriously does not seem to occupy nearly as much space.
**He also scored both geek and boyfriend points by promptly programming the new alarm clock so that I would wake up to NPR instead of the dull ZZZEEEEP ZZEEEEP ZZZEEEP of doom.