May 16, 2022 3 min read

I have an elaborate morning ritual. My alarm clock is not near me. It’s on a cabinet 10 feet away from the bed. Every morning, I have to get up and walk across the room to turn it off. The noise from this annoying device screeches like the siren of an ambulance. The kind you hear rolling through Piccadilly Circus in London. Wee aww. Wee aww. It’s a distinct high-pitched noise that would force a dead man to shamble across the room and hit the off button. I don’t hit the snooze, because then I have to go back over there again.

It’s an old-fashioned alarm clock with the flippy numbers. I like to pretend there’s a little man in there flipping them over like he’s working the scoreboard at a high school soccer game.

The clock goes off at 6 a.m., but it’s really 5:50 a.m. because it is 10 minutes fast.

One dark winter morning, I marched across the room, eyes still glued shut, tripped over a black tennis shoe and tumbled to the carpet. Now, the shoes go directly into the closet as soon as I remove them from my feet. Otherwise, I’ll be eating the lint off the rug for breakfast.

Once I turn it off, I go to another room and grab my phone from the charger and look at it for 10 minutes, and rise out of bed, the second time, for real at actual 6 a.m.

Side note: During a sleep study session, I learned that you shouldn’t have the electronics in your bedroom. If your phone charges on your nightstand, it’s too easy to look at it. Next thing you know, you’re scrolling through TikTok at 3 in the morning, watching some shirtless dude lip-synching sea shanties; a half-naked pirate with too much hair gel glistening on top of his curly, albeit crunchy ‘do. Sometimes it’s a scantily clad woman, who has Botox so bad she looks just like Janice the Muppet sans Dr. Teeth and the other members of the Electric Mayhem. Lips that entrance you as she discusses meal plans and energy drinks.

Maybe that’s just me.

But I digress, like I do. I’m not a morning person. I’m a “five more minutes” person. I realize that if eight hours couldn’t cut it, 10 extra minutes isn’t going to do a whole hell of a lot of good, but I take it anyway. Every morning I promise myself that I will go to bed earlier, and every evening I find myself watching one more TV show or reading one more chapter.

I treat my bed like a loved one going on a distant voyage, straightening the comforter into place and thinking, “I can’t wait to be back in you.” Then, I cheat on my bed with the couch, the TV and/or a book.

Benjamin Franklin once said, “Early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.” Unfortunately, I’m not wise enough to follow his advice.