The calm before the day begins

I fall asleep to podcasts or audiobooks because I find it helps distract the wee hamster in my head from running on the wheel all night generating misplaced static electricity from what I’m going to do about the pile of laundry, whether I should I go to the pool tomorrow, why am I a complete screw-up and will Beijing or Mumbai become overlords of Victoria following the post-economic apocalypse.  This means I still have earbuds in at least one ear in the morning and the ipod has generally slipped under my back during the night.

With this in mind, I’ve taken technology in hand, trashed the clock radio and programmed the ipod to play the “harp” alarm to start my day. It isn’t all that effective at getting me up right away. It usually takes a few minutes before I realize why my dream includes a somewhat tinny, repetitive harp riff and there’s something buzzing near my left kidney. But that is all part of my plan.

I’ve tried a few other of the alarm selections – the Marimba felt like someone was playing a tune on my teeth, the sonar is just plain annoying and the alarm alarm [taken directly from movies where the world is about to end, everything is flashing red and that damn woman’s voice say’s, with calm reason, “The nuclear device will detonate in 5 minutes”] resulted in my ripping 2 cords out of a wall and running full tilt into the door. With the harp alarm, I usually twig after about 10 minutes that morning has made her return to this side of the planet.

What follows is about 2 minutes of precious calm. Still warm and completely relaxed from sleep, settled deep into the covers, eyes closed. I don’t even think about what is ahead or what I’ll need to do five minutes after the essentials have been seen to.  The morning plans can wait for review while standing on the step waiting for the dog to pee.

This is precious time. Nothing hurts, nothing has been forgotten or discovered. There are no questions, no reproach, no expectations.  Suspended between worlds.

Then I hear my beloved’s ipod begin buzzing; he’ll reach over tenderly, jab me in the ribs and mumble something about coffee. The dog is whining in his crate and the morning fusillade begins. As the feet rotate towards the floor joints pop and crackle: the full body symphonic follows with wood winds and brass.

Cue the damn birds, I’m ready to face the day.