Apparently even my clock radio thinks that we have a dysfunctional relationship. I overslept by an hour today. No, overslept is too nice a way to put it. I kept hitting the snooze button...so, I guess I oversnoozed. (I blame the monsoon and accompanying gray skies for failing to rouse me, but that's really neither here nor there.) The radio would go off periodically, so I basically just elected to stay in that constantly interrupted state of consciousness, because it's such a great way to start the day...who needs breakfast when you can have a panic attack every eight minutes? And then, after an hour of this, my clock radio gave up on me and shut off altogether: "I freakin' TRIED. What is WRONG WITH YOU? It's almost SEVEN THIRTY. Don't you have BILLS TO PAY? Aren't songs about Kelly Clarkson's tormented love life ENOUGH TO GET YOU OUT OF YOUR COCOON?"
Ironically, it was the silence that woke me up. Sounds like the start of a Hemingway novel.
So I started the day late, and then after one of my morning meetings I announced that I was feeling crabby. I just get more professional every day.