Monday, April 30, 2007
Who needs a wake up call?
I am quite sure that, by now, you are sick to death of my “static sucks” stories.
Hell, I am sick of them and I am the one writing.
Actually, I am more sick of the static than the stories.
I almost didn’t write this one, thinking that, “they get it, there’s static up here. One more tale of woe won’t do much.” But this tale, this story of sparks, is one that could possibly have a real and disastrous effect on my daily life.
For years I have had the same alarm clock. It has nearly always been faithful, reliable.
There is duct tape residue along the back from when I had taped it to the wall back in my freshman year of college.
There is shiny purple nail polish on the buttons from one-day, years ago, when I had fancied myself an artist.
There are even dents and scratches along the side from being thrown across the room on too many early mornings.
It has been a part of my waking life for far too long.
And now I fear its days are at an end.
Two days ago I woke up to the blaring noise of NPR. I flung myself from bed, eyes still closed, searching for the snooze button. As my hand neared the clock I felt the tingling of static, the resulting spark was enough to rouse, even me, from sleepy-land.
It was bright.
It was blue.
It was ouchy as heck.
It was enough of a shock to shut down the radio and chang the time on both the clock and the alarm a full 5 hours and 37 minutes.
The radio is still offline.
This morning I woke up to the buzzing alternative to NPR. I approached the alarm with some trepidation. Scared of what my charged fingers might do.
I reached.
I touched.
I shocked the hell out of myself, yet again.
The buzzing stopped.
The time changed.
(This time on by 1 hour 42 minutes.)
So far I believe that the alarm will work tomorrow morning. But with less than two weeks left of school I am forced to wonder, will my alarm last?
And if is does, will I survive the electrical forces?
Hell, I am sick of them and I am the one writing.
Actually, I am more sick of the static than the stories.
I almost didn’t write this one, thinking that, “they get it, there’s static up here. One more tale of woe won’t do much.” But this tale, this story of sparks, is one that could possibly have a real and disastrous effect on my daily life.
For years I have had the same alarm clock. It has nearly always been faithful, reliable.
There is duct tape residue along the back from when I had taped it to the wall back in my freshman year of college.
There is shiny purple nail polish on the buttons from one-day, years ago, when I had fancied myself an artist.
There are even dents and scratches along the side from being thrown across the room on too many early mornings.
It has been a part of my waking life for far too long.
And now I fear its days are at an end.
Two days ago I woke up to the blaring noise of NPR. I flung myself from bed, eyes still closed, searching for the snooze button. As my hand neared the clock I felt the tingling of static, the resulting spark was enough to rouse, even me, from sleepy-land.
It was bright.
It was blue.
It was ouchy as heck.
It was enough of a shock to shut down the radio and chang the time on both the clock and the alarm a full 5 hours and 37 minutes.
The radio is still offline.
This morning I woke up to the buzzing alternative to NPR. I approached the alarm with some trepidation. Scared of what my charged fingers might do.
I reached.
I touched.
I shocked the hell out of myself, yet again.
The buzzing stopped.
The time changed.
(This time on by 1 hour 42 minutes.)
So far I believe that the alarm will work tomorrow morning. But with less than two weeks left of school I am forced to wonder, will my alarm last?
And if is does, will I survive the electrical forces?
posted by Jody @ 9:44 PM 
