If there’s such a thing as death by snooze button, I’m pretty sure that I’m killing my husband softly with my song.
And my head told my heart: Let love grow
I have been—purposely—setting my alarm even earlier than the time I actually need to get out of bed. Since I need to crawl my sorry ass out of bed before six each morning, I have been setting the alarm for 5:15 and hitting the snooze button. More than once.
But my heart told my head: This time no. This time no.
There’s just something wonderful about those nine-minute increments. I turn over into my normal sleeping position. Half on my stomach; half on my side. One leg up and bent, flamingo-style. Arms wrapped around my pillow; hugging it. I can’t explain it, really, this sleep position of mine. But snuggling back into my bed for nine minutes at a time is blissful.
We’ll be washed and buried one day my girl. And the time we were given will be left for the world.
The flesh that lived and loved will be eaten by plague. So let the memories be good for those who stay.
But not for the poor guy who doesn’t have to wake up at an oh-my-god-it’s-early hour and who bolts out of bed every nine minutes thinking something is wrong or we are getting broken into or someone is sick or the dog needs to go out…and yes, it’s just his wife falling back asleep with Mumford & Sons.
I am awesome to live with.