The Alarm Clock

I miss my alarm clock. Call me old fashioned. I really miss it.

The older I get, the more things change around me. I try not to echo my grandparents of years past by complaining about new-fangled devices and procedures that aren’t like they used to be. Although I’m never on the cutting edge, I try to embrace new technology and keep up-to-date with new offerings that will simplify or make my life more enjoyable or more efficient. It’s hard, sometimes, to keep up. And, sometimes I don’t.

I am a person who definitely likes things the way I like them. OK, you might call it a control freak, and you’re welcome to have your own opinion. But, I like to feel comfortable with the things around me so that I don’t have to strain and think real hard to remember how something works or struggle to remember the proper order of steps. We recently got a new music sound system for our house. We have had it less than a week, and we are still getting things set up. I find the downloadable phone control app to be confusing with its many screens. I typically gravitate towards things that are in logical order, but I haven’t found anything logical or even intuitive about the control screens. So far, I stare at my phone trying to remember which icon to select to take me to the screen that leads me to the page that displays the image that lets me chose a speaker so I can turn the volume up or down. So many steps. I wonder what the designers were thinking when they created this complexity of menus.  I’m sure it will eventually make sense. I hope.

Technology aside, I remember times when I was introduced to a different way of doing things. I see it all the time in my class of preschoolers. Four year-olds don’t have a whole lot of life experience, so most of them are accustomed to doing things the way their families do it. We see different levels of resistance in class as we expect things to be done a certain way, often “not the way my mommy does it.”  I still laugh remembering the little boy who struggled with bathroom etiquette all year. We constantly reminded him that at school, we have to flush every time. At home, the mantra was “If it’s pee, let it be; if it’s brown flush it down.”

I remember a few random stories from my early days that were insignificant events, but they struck me very strongly. In the first story, I know that I was about 3 or 4 years old. For some reason, an older woman was overseeing my breakfast. I have the sense that I might have been at her house, but I’m not sure about that. What I remember is rushing to eat my bowl of breakfast cereal with milk, and being satisfied that I had eaten every last bite. I remember her leaning over to inspect my bowl, then telling me that I had to finish the milk, too. I stared hard at her. "The milk, in the bottom of the bowl?" Yes, that was part of my breakfast, and I had to drink it up. After staring at the cereal crumbs floating in the milk, I finally decided that I had to suck it up (literally), or she wouldn’t let me go outside to play with the other kids. So, I tilted the bowl and drank the milk. Who was that mystery breakfast overseer? I have no idea. I don’t know who she was or why I was with her early in the morning. But, I remember that I did not like this new way of doing things.

Another time, I was in elementary school, playing at a friend’s house. The family invited me to stay for dinner. The food was good, and the conversation was interesting. At some point, I realized that I didn’t have a drink, so I asked if I could get something to drink. Everyone at the table looked at me like I had just grown another head, or sprouted horns, or something. "You can have milk after we have finished eating," was the answer. "But, I'm thirsty now." “We don’t drink with our meal.” “Say what?” I choked down the rest of the food, which got dryer with every bite. This was not the way I was used to doing things. Also, I don't really like milk. Maybe it has something to do with these childhood stories, ya think?

One more story. When I graduated from college, a group of girlfriends and I moved into an apartment together, while we tried to decide on the next steps in our lives. It was our first time out in the real world, outside of the college dorm and our family homes. We scraped together whatever furniture and household items we could find for our tiny apartment. We were 5 young adult girls, ready to take on the world. I remember, though, the Trashcan Controversy. Immediately upon setting up the apartment, the kitchen trashcan became an issue. At first, it was positioned by the sliding glass door which led to the patio. The next day, it was moved to the cabinet under the sink. Later, it was moved to the pantry closet. Then, it was moved beside the refrigerator. Next, it was moved beside the kitchen table. You see, each one of us expected the kitchen trashcan to be in the place where our family kept their trashcan, so we would move it accordingly. For weeks, that trashcan moved around the kitchen, you never knew where it would be. Finally, we came together and made a house decision for where the trashcan would live, and we all adjusted to it. How silly was that?

So, what was the thing about alarm clocks? I’ll circle back around. My alarm clock broke, and I tried to replace it. After buying 3 different replacement models and rejecting each because the display light was too bright, or the waking buzz was too loud, or the buttons were too hard to push, or something did not work as expected, I have lost faith that I will find a suitable alarm clock. There aren’t many for sale anymore. I really, really, really don’t like using my phone alarm in the morning. I mean really. In the dark hours of the night, I don’t want to search around on my bedside table looking for my phone, picking it up with tangled wires, pressing my finger on the right spot to activate the display, just to see what time it is, carefully laying it back so it doesn’t teeter on the edge of the table. I don’t want the alarm to wake me up, my sleepy hand grabbing for my phone, eyes trying to bring the screen into focus so I can remember whether I swipe left or right to activate the 5 minute snooze. Then, second-guessing myself on whether I did swipe the snooze or turn the alarm completely off. I’m sorry, but I don’t like it, not at all. I also don’t want a gentle voice to call out to me, because I don’t want to form words and speak back to Alexa or Siri or any sleep interrupting voice.

Contrast that morning scenario with the simplicity of a good working alarm clock. An acceptable alarm clock allows me to wake up in the middle of the night, and without even lifting my head off the pillow, peek with one eye and see what time it is. Nothing disruptive about that. An acceptable alarm clock allows me to wake to the buzz or beeper or music sound, and without opening my eyes, fling my hand across the bed to slam the 5 minute snooze button on top of the clock. I can do it in my sleep. I usually go for only one snooze, but those 5 minutes make all the difference.

Why can’t I just find a good old-fashioned alarm clock that works the way I want it to? Why does everything have to change? You kids get off my lawn! I guess I’ve become a grumpy old lady. I’m not gonna drink the milk in the bottom of my cereal bowl. But, I’m not gonna drink milk with my dinner, either. Instead, I think I’ll have a glass of wine, because I can. Cheers!