Alarming? Not This Work Day

Young people are always doing something. They get up to an alarming alarm, shower, dress, groom and drive somewhere to work doing something that I hope they like. If not, that is a great sadness. They work all the time at home too, but I think that work is less stressful. They are parents, volunteers and on occasion... they actually get to relax. I wonder if they hum a tune or whistle. I hope they have music to help them through the day.

I believe all people should whistle while they work. You don't really have to do it out loud but lots of people do. In Mexico you hear people singing and humming as they work. Despite the difficulty of the work they may be doing... they keep themselves upbeat with their own sounds. Me? I've never had enough oxygen or coordination to whistle. The sounds I made didn't sound happy or even human... so I quit making them. They did make me laugh.

My Big Grandma was always humming a tune. I am sad to tell you I can't remember what any of them were. Maybe that didn't really matter. She seemed to always find the bright side of life wherever it was hiding. I loved her for that and so much more. The best part is that she gave birth to my mother and seven other rascals. During the time I lived with her she gave me my first alarm clock because I was sixteen years-old and terminally sleepy.

Ah, yes... the younger we are the less likely we will be to start a day without complaining. The next real change comes at middle age. That used to be 30-50. Now it's 55-70. We go 'round the turn and end up wanting to stay in bed about that time. The alarm clock becomes semi-important because our bones decide how long we will or will not sleep. They crackle, pop and complain about every move and are famous for keeping us awake at night.

Dang them.

Unlike young people, Geezers don't have to have alarms because most of us don't need them. Of course some of us still have a need for a morning reminder. I do have an old style alarm clock with dingy bells on top of it. It has a battery because I forgot to rewind my other clock and was late to a doctor appointment. I bought an independent clock. It's a tough little bugger, too. Last week I set it for 8am. When I woke up at 8:20 that little arm between the dingy bells was still furiously sounding an alarm. What a trooper. Too bad I wear ear plugs. I'm pretty sure that battery will have a short life. Godspeed little battery. I love your tune so much that I slept through it.

On normal days here at Geezer Tribe HQ we each get up when we want to. The peculiar thing is that we sleep in different rooms now and in different beds. This has been very, very hard for us. I know many of you already do this but we have not. I have worn ear plugs these 39 years for the privilege of sleeping with Mr. S. The funny thing is that I still wear them... all by myself in the guest room. Our beloved Grover shares his nights with us. I find this remarkable because he doesn't have a doggy alarm clock... that we can see. Somehow, he makes sure e each get his warmth and love every night.

Someday my new hip will heal and I'll scale the Mr. and Mrs. S giant bed and be at peace. For now, I'm happy to be across the hallway in the puny guest room bed. Sorry friends... it sucks. As the official (however semi-operative) housekeeper, I'm still in charge of setting alarms and making arrangements for doctors, dentists, medicines and all sorts of other things which include the Grover bath.

Mornings? Without alarms Mr. S and I seem to get up at about the same time and have an ongoing contest which involves hair. This contest comes before coffee or water but after human necessaries. His hair. My hair. It's a daily contest we've conducted for years.

Whose hair is the worst? One rule is that we are not allowed to take pictures of each other. We can do free form at the other one. This means we usually laugh a lot because this is the headquarters for bad hair. Who wins?

We do.

Sometimes we are so very close to the same and so are you.

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