This morning I had a dream that involved someone holding an umbrella and every time he touched the tip of the umbrella to the ground, the unpleasant sounds of a jackhammer started up. I tried to ask him to stop doing that but he just shrugged his shoulders and ignored my pleas. Anyhow by then I figured if I just stayed soundly asleep, the noise was bound to stop sooner or later. Of course it did not stop and in fact became more and more persistent and as I started coming to, I had a vague notion that the commotion was happening on my street, and getting up to look out the window, ascertained all this was taking place directly in front of my apartment and not just in my head. I’m rarely, if ever happy about waking up in the morning, but today I felt like I’d been tricked out of bed so I was more than prepared to rejoin my comfortable sofa in protest just as soon as they were done with their noise pollution. It just felt much too early to be up. It’s a fact I had slipped off the wagon again and couldn’t be roused no matter what I tried so when looking at the clock I realized it was close to noontime, I figured I should just reel in the attitude and the foot stomping and accept that it was all a big cosmic joke.
I never did get around to posting about day 2 of my shopping spree as I meant to. In the end I figured it was probably more interesting to me than to anyone else, but one important item I got is that beautiful antique clock pictured above. When I noticed it in the shop window, I did a double-take and knew I had to have it. Being a genuine antique clock, I didn’t know how reliable it would be at keeping time (not very: gains 5 minutes every day), but I felt fairly sure that the alarm—jarring and persistent as it is—was likely to have me bounding out of bed in the morning, in effect putting me on the path of rehabilitation. It did work for a few days. Except the second day since, not realizing I was supposed to wind it every day, I was quite upset to wake up the next day (very late) and find my brand new antique alarm clock had stopped working. Broken already? I figured out it just needed to be wound up every day and that didn’t happen again. Then after a few days, I guess the romance started to wear off when the persistent tic-tic-tic had me cursing antiques of every kind. To “make up” for the lost sleep lost to the tics, I started allowing myself to lie down again for a short snooze after I’d walked over to the clock to shut it off, which of course meant I’d only wake up again late in the afternoon, defeating the purpose of the alarm clock. I thought I was very clever when I set two alarm clocks, side by side with a ten minute interval to allow for snoozing, but then found that the aggravation of having to get up twice to those obnoxious noises was all the excuse I needed to decide that I deserved a little snooze after all that nerve wracking commotion. The need for discipline is a concept completely lost on my slumbering self.
And then came the jackhammer. I swear, once I’d gotten over my initial resistance, I was trying to figure out how to get that machinery in here so it could literally shake me out of my semi-comatose state every day. But then I wondered what extreme measure I’d have to take once the novelty of the jackhammer wore off and I got scared. And then by association, all this reminded me of a time long long ago, when it was just my mum and I, and how she woke me every morning before setting off for work. Hints of her perfume alerted me to her presence before she came into the room, and then having fallen asleep again, a soft stroke on the cheek was all I needed to come to and encourage me to start the day on the right foot. If only I could get Fritz to do something like that, it might just do the trick. But lately the whole concept of affection is more or less lost on him, so my antique alarm clock, even with it’s mechanical quirks, is still the most reliable option.
Pic by Smiler