sometime around midnight...

Every Friday morning I wake up to weed-whackers, leaf-blowers and lawn-mowers. They're just sitting there, in my room, staring at me. "Wake up" they say. It's time to get up - it's seven in the morning and you need to open your sleepy eyes. We don't care if you've only got six hours of sleep, we've been sleeping all week and we're not complaining. "WAKE UP!"

I'll wake up, I tell them, but I'm not getting out of bed. At least not until after nine - at least then I have the satisfaction of being in bed for at least eight hours. And in that time I'm able to put good use to my pillows that say "don't leave" every time I lift my head up to the incessant groaning of my alarm clock. You'd be surprised at how many inanimate objects speak to you, if you'd just open your ears and listen...

My computer sings to me. My clothes tell me how good I look. My shoes tell me how fast I am. My tv tells me I need more stuff. My phone says I'll never have to be alone. The list goes on and on people - and in all honesty sometimes I wish all I owned were the clothes on my back. 

But I regress. For tomorrow morning I'm not going to be happy with my alarm clock, and my pillows are not going to be happy with me. I'm sure sometime around midnight tonight I'm going to be thinking - why am I awake? And then I'll remember about that time that I have to be at work in four hours, smile and say - oh yes I only wanted two REM cycles anyway...