I have a lot of complicated relationships in my life, particularly with things that aren’t so good for me. That guy that keeps screwing me over, Taco Bell, and excessive amounts of handbag shopping are among the things that fall into the “I wish I knew how to quit you” category. But perhaps the most detrimental of all is the relationship I have with that little bastard called the snooze button.
Every (weekday) morning, my alarm is set for 5:30 a.m. Yes, that’s ridiculously early but A.) I work out twice a day – this ass ain’t gonna lose itself – and B.) I’m in the office by 7:30 a.m. so I can beat rush hour traffic and get out of work while the sun is still out. Despite my attempt at an “early to rise” mentality (at least a few days a week) my morning usually looks a little something like this:
5:30 a.m. Beep Beep Beep. Knowing that I don’t actually have to get up until 5:40 to get a workout in before work, I hit Mr. Snooze and roll over for a few minutes of extra shut eye.
5:39 a.m. I can apparently hit snooze in my sleep, because the next thing I know it’s…
5:48 a.m. Ugh, if I get up now I can get in 25 minutes of cardio. Is it worth it? Let me hit the button while I think about it.
5:57 a.m. Ah, fuck it. It’s too late now. I’ll just work out extra tonight and eat nothing but vegetables today. Must get up by 6:15 to be to work on time. That’s two snoozes, right?
6:06 a.m., 6:15 a.m., 6:24 a.m. Just a few more minutes…
6:44 a.m. WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME THE SNOOZE STOPS WORKING AFTER AN HOUR?
This is generally followed by a rushed shower, in which I miss giant patches of leg hair when shaving, driving at what is likely considered a “high rate of speed,” while sending emails from my phone to make everyone think I’m in the office, and skulking in through the side door in hopes that no one will see me arriving a good thirty minutes late. While I could blame my lateness on any number of factors, I know that the fault lies with one person and one person only – Mr. Snooze Button. Yes, the snooze button is a male – all truly evil things are.
Not only is that asshole responsible for my being late, he’s also apparently responsible for what my HR file calls my “occasional flares of bad temper.” Dr. Robert Rosenberg writes on Everyday Health, “If you are in REM sleep and you interrupt it with the snooze alarm, this can lead to an inability to process and reconcile emotionally laden memories from the previous day. In addition, fragmented sleep can result in moodiness, cognitive problems, and trouble paying attention.” Ah, so that’s why I’m a raging bitch with ADD 90 percent of the time!
You would think that recognizing the fact that he makes me late for work and gives me an attitude that rivals Kanye at an awards show would mean that I’d finally acknowledge that my relationship with Mr. Snooze isn’t a healthy one. But, much like my love affair with pepperoni pizza that stifles my weight loss, I am simply unable to end my co-dependent association with the snooze button. And yes, I’ve tried all of the tricks – I moved my alarm across the room, I turn on the lights when I get up to shut it off, I go to bed early, I set the coffee maker to fill my place with the intoxicating aroma of Starbucks House Blend. Nothing works – I just can’t shake that little guy who gives me the gift of nine more minutes of sleep, but yet takes so much more away. I guess we will continue our little morning dance, Mr. Snooze Button. I’ll see you tomorrow at 5:30…when I’m going to get up to work out. I swear..
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