My alarm clock died this morning. The clock itself isn't dead, but the button that turns off the alarm is, which means you can't actually make it stop meeping. This is sad to me because it's been my trusty alarm clock for twelve years.
And I've moved a LOT in those twelve years.
Sure, it didn't go off the day I had a final in my Pediatrics nursing class and I almost failed the final because I only had twenty-five minutes to take a two hour exam. Sure, I zoomed through about half of it and marked "C"s for the last half of the exam. Sure, by the grace of God I passed both the final and the class. That clock and I have a history - good times and bad times.
It woke me up for my wedding day, for long car trips home. And the days it wasn't supposed to go off, it never did. That's loyalty, my friends.
A couple of weeks ago The Hater asked me if I wanted a new alarm clock for Christmas. Of course not, I said, this alarm clock is special and great and wonderful. And the numbers are about three inches tall, so you can tell the time from any point in the room. It's so bright that sometimes you don't even have to open your eyes to see it.
The Hater assures me he didn't sabotage the clock, and I believe him. Although I think he's secretly looking forward to a new alarm clock.
It's tragic. I'm sad.
But it's nothing that a little retail therapy can't alleviate.
(Although we can't actually shop for anything until the dreadded 4-8" of snow and ice goes away. That's what they're predicting for us tomorrow.)