Today, I am angry. I am angry because I have only had five hours sleep and I really could have done with seven. This morning, Boyfriend’s alarm clock went off at 07.00. The radio loudly switched on. Today FM’s Ian Dempsey sounded more laid back than usual. The format of his show seemed different too. Somewhere in dreamland my suspicions were active. Despite the blaring radio, I was awakened from my coma by a strangely, wide awake Boyfriend.
“Why the fuck does that dope on the radio keep saying it’s 06.00 when it’s 07.00? He has his time mixed up,” he observed in a half curious, half annoyed manner.
“Really? Does he keep giving the wrong time?” I asked. “That’s funny.” I reached for my mobile on the shelf over the bed. “He’s not giving the wrong time, you dope. It’s 06.00. How the fuck did the alarm clock set itself forward by an hour.”
“I dunno”, Boyfriend said as he returned to the depths of his pillow.
I switched the radio off. I surprisingly didn’t throw it against the wall. I attempted to sleep, but decided I would get up and spend half an hour sleep walking around the house bumping into more things than I normally would.
Boyfriend and I have not had much luck with alarm clocks. The last one we had was a CD/radio alarm clock. It was OK, until one day, while cleaning the bedroom, Boyfriend dropped it. From that day on it became just a radio alarm clock. The radio and timepiece worked perfectly well until one day, while cleaning the bedroom, Boyfriend dropped the alarm clock (again). It still worked. It would take a few months before we noticed it was broken.
A few months later, I was going through one of those getting up late every day phases. I would glance at the alarm clock, run to the shower, get dressed and return to the kitchen again. After a few days, maybe weeks, of this, I realised I was very efficient with my time. I was able to do a Ryanair turn around. It then became apparent that the clock in the bedroom was five or ten minutes faster than the clock in the kitchen. It took me twenty five minutes to get ready in the morning and not fifteen as I had thought.
It has now come to the stage when I want nothing to do with any alarm clock. These gadgets annoy me because every make and model has its own endless supply of buttons, dials and switches. I hate tinkering with them. I refuse to set it, despite the fact it’s on my side of the bed. I blatantly refuse to. My phone is sufficient as an alarm. Needless to say, when Boyfriend asked me to adjust the time on the clock at 06.00 this morning, I told him where to go. And no, I didn’t tell him to go to work.