We were at The Crooked Tree tonight with hot apple ciders and a crème de marron crêpe between the two of us, and it was warm and candle-lit, and I was fighting to keep my eyes open.
I have been waking before the alarm clock every morning this week, which is nice because, man, I hate the sound of that alarm. Sometimes I think I need to get one of those Japanese ones I used to see when I used to transit at Narita, the one where it’s like, a Japanese fisherwoman yelling at you to wake. I’m gonna say that again. A Japanese fisherwoman. Yelling. At you. To wake. It’s possible that that would still be better than the zzjhaaee-zzjhaaee-zzjhaaee of my current alarm clock.
In any case, the thing about waking up before the alarm is that it seems to suggest that, glory be, I’m finally getting enough rest, and my body is waking me up when it’s ready for me to wake up. But that just doesn’t make sense, because I can’t have gotten more than six hours of sleep per night this week. Which is what leads us to The Crooked Tree after midnight, cradling a mug of hot apple cider in my hand, and wanting little more than to close my eyes and put my head down on the table.
It seems like ages ago I was waking before the alarm this morning, rolling over and stretching, good and cat-like, on candy-striped flannel sheets. I smiled into my pillow. I was thinking about a boy.
I have been waking before the alarm clock every morning this week, which is nice because, man, I hate the sound of that alarm. Sometimes I think I need to get one of those Japanese ones I used to see when I used to transit at Narita, the one where it’s like, a Japanese fisherwoman yelling at you to wake. I’m gonna say that again. A Japanese fisherwoman. Yelling. At you. To wake. It’s possible that that would still be better than the zzjhaaee-zzjhaaee-zzjhaaee of my current alarm clock.
In any case, the thing about waking up before the alarm is that it seems to suggest that, glory be, I’m finally getting enough rest, and my body is waking me up when it’s ready for me to wake up. But that just doesn’t make sense, because I can’t have gotten more than six hours of sleep per night this week. Which is what leads us to The Crooked Tree after midnight, cradling a mug of hot apple cider in my hand, and wanting little more than to close my eyes and put my head down on the table.
It seems like ages ago I was waking before the alarm this morning, rolling over and stretching, good and cat-like, on candy-striped flannel sheets. I smiled into my pillow. I was thinking about a boy.
posted by stellou at 6:39 AM
2 Comments:
The Japanese fisherwoman sounds stressy. I want one of those alarm clocks that has a big light that gradually gets brighter and brighter, so it's like sunrise. It's very hard to get out of bed on days like today, when it's so dark.
is this an alarm clock that exists for real? or did you dream it in between hitting the snooze button? :-) it sounds very clever, but will it be cleverer than us? will we wake up late one morning and find it sitting in the armchair by the window, smoking a pipe and reading the paper, with a cup of coffee on the side table next to it? will it wink at us and ask us to toast it a crumpet as we stand there rubbing our eyes, bleary, rumpled, lost?
Post a Comment
<< Home