Time Is Not On My Side

As shocking events continue to occur around the globe (the revolutions in the Middle East, Democratic Senators fleeing Wisconsin to protect the rights of state workers, a woman pitching for the first time to Major League hitters the Cleveland Indians …), I know that one question is at the forefront of everyone’s consciousness: What is a Day In The Life like for The Dead Acorn?

I’ve listed below my normal schedule of events for a weekday morning (weekends usually involve bail bondsmen and/or asking for directions back to the main road):

• 5:00 am – (alarm sounds) Rise from bed; hit snooze button; return to bed.

• 5:09 am – (alarm sounds) Rise from bed; hit snooze button; return to bed.

• 5:18 am – (alarm sounds) Rise from bed; hit snooze button; return to bed.

• 5:27 am – (alarm sounds) Rise from bed; hit snooze button; return to bed.

• 5:36 am – (alarm sounds) Rise from bed; hit snooze button; return to bed.

• 5:45 am – (alarm sounds) Rise from bed; hit snooze button; return to bed.

• 5:54 am – (alarm sounds) Rise from bed; turn off alarm; return to bed.

• 6:45 am – Leap from bed in full-blown panic mode, convinced that it's past noon.

• 6:45:50 am-7:30 am – See that all is not lost; do morning stuff; arrive at “work.”

You probably notice some inefficiency in my timeline, but believe me, I’ve tried to find an alarm clock that has a snooze duration of 54 minutes, and they simply don’t exist. The 5:00 am setting itself is something I can’t seem to bring myself to change, however.

It’s an artifact from a bygone time, a time when I would spring out of bed and marvel at the pale glow beyond the hills, trembling with anticipation at what the day might bring … a time when breakfast was ever-changing, yet always palate-pleasing, lingered over and loved … a time when goals, and hopes, and dreams still burned within and consumed me … when dreams filled my imagination and ambition drove my every thought, when aspirations still existed and the thought of lying in bed wasting time was unimaginable, when visions of what the future might hold were so strong that I would rise from my slumber and leap to the window, throwing back the curtains and crying “YES!” to the new day, “YES!” to the first rays of the sun …

Granted, that bygone time only lasted about a week, and now I’m back to rushing through a bowl of cold cereal while trying to put my clothes on and brushing my hair reading the few comics that I can get through so that I’m not more than fifteen minutes late to "work," but for some reason, I just can’t bring myself to reset that damn alarm to a more sensible time.

So there you have (at least part of) a Day In The Life Of The Dead Acorn. A Night In The Life Of The Dead Acorn, by the way, has, as its final item, this:

• 4:30 am – wake up on couch; drink full warm beer foolishly opened the night before; turn on alarm; go to bed.

Livin’ the dream, baby.