You know what I hate? (Besides airplanes) Alarm clocks. I’m very much a night person. I function better at night, and I have for years. Getting up in the morning and getting myself in gear is a difficult thing, and sometimes my alarm clock just isn’t up to the task. Like this morning. It went off at 6:25 like I set it to. I know this, because I woke up at 6:34 when the snooze alarm went off. However, I have no recollection of hitting snooze. There can only be two conclusions:
- I was abducted by aliens and they had to futz around with my alarm clock in order to cover their tracks. Because aliens are notorious for returning people to their beds late. Let’s face it.
- My alarm clock is a sentient being playing tricks with my mind and trying to make me think I’m going crazy.
Either way, I’m going to need some serious therapy at some later point in my life. Oh well. I’ll deal with that when it comes. In the meantime, I had to rush through my writing to get it done. I finished, but I really would have loved to have finished the chapter. Such is life.
In other non-writing related news, my son last night got very upset. Why? Because he was stressed about building blocks. Lately he’s on a kick where he goes to his room and builds things for literally hours at a time. Sometimes this leaves his room in quite a state–if he has deconstructed his building but has yet to erect a new one. So last night I told him he either had to build another something or clean up the blocks. Poor kid got in a big huff, worried he’d never be finished building. I’m still not entirely sure what he was so upset about, but I guess the idea of building things got to be too much for him for a little bit.
Or he just was trying to weasel out of cleaning up his blocks, and he thought some tears would do the trick.
They didn’t, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel bad for him.