Wrecked
One way to wake up in the morning is for the rising sun to gently begin lighting the apartment, as the sound of sea birds outside slowly creep into my consciousness, and my purring cut curls up against my shoulder. That's a good way to wake up.
That, however, is not the way I woke up today.
This morning's wakeup strategy began at 5 o'something a.m. with a spectacularly loud head-on car collision on Nelson St right outside ("But Nelson is a one way street," you say? Ah, if the minivan cab driver had only realized that. . . .) The sound utterly terrified my cat. He had no idea where it came from, and it seemed to spook him in a more permanent way than most loud noises usually do.
At 5 o'something + 5 minutes, as I was just nearly asleep again, I just didn't feel comfy lying in bed with what was now a 18lb totally lifelike statue of a scared-stiff fuzzy black cat propped up against me. I pushed said cat figurine towards the edge of the bed, but somehow, without actually moving, it would slide right up against me again, always facing the windows with its facial expression of pure terror.
I'd nearly gotten used to this around 5 o'something + 10 minutes when not one, but two ambulances showed up, and didn't feel like it was necessary to turn off their sirens even though they had arrived at their destination.
Ironically, what this all means is that by around 6am, instead of simply being awake already and continuing with my day, all the commotion finally quieted, and I made the non-morning-person decision to take advantage of the silence to catch a few minutes more sleep. What started as a few minutes more sleep turned into a half an hour more sleep, and I've spent the rest of the day catching back up, I think.
That, however, is not the way I woke up today.
This morning's wakeup strategy began at 5 o'something a.m. with a spectacularly loud head-on car collision on Nelson St right outside ("But Nelson is a one way street," you say? Ah, if the minivan cab driver had only realized that. . . .) The sound utterly terrified my cat. He had no idea where it came from, and it seemed to spook him in a more permanent way than most loud noises usually do.
At 5 o'something + 5 minutes, as I was just nearly asleep again, I just didn't feel comfy lying in bed with what was now a 18lb totally lifelike statue of a scared-stiff fuzzy black cat propped up against me. I pushed said cat figurine towards the edge of the bed, but somehow, without actually moving, it would slide right up against me again, always facing the windows with its facial expression of pure terror.
I'd nearly gotten used to this around 5 o'something + 10 minutes when not one, but two ambulances showed up, and didn't feel like it was necessary to turn off their sirens even though they had arrived at their destination.
Ironically, what this all means is that by around 6am, instead of simply being awake already and continuing with my day, all the commotion finally quieted, and I made the non-morning-person decision to take advantage of the silence to catch a few minutes more sleep. What started as a few minutes more sleep turned into a half an hour more sleep, and I've spent the rest of the day catching back up, I think.