[Part of my mission to “live deliberately” involves ruthlessly cutting out anything that saps my time, energy or money to no good end. I’m calling these things my “Quits,” and this is one of the many items that have found themselves on my Quits List.]
I already hate myself for this one. But once I hit publish, there is no going back. And I know it’s for my own good.
The hard truth is that not all my quits are going to be things I don’t like that I’ve always wanted to quit anyway. Some of them are going to be things I dearly love but that aren’t good for me or aren’t getting me anywhere I need to go. I won’t enjoy giving up these things. But it needs to be done.
You, beloved Snooze Button, are one of those things.
One Last Farewell
I’ve always known you aren’t good for me, but that’s part of your allure. I know I shouldn’t keep turning to you. I know I’m supposed to be strong. But you beckon to me in my half-asleep haze, encouraging me to forget the resolutions I made the night before, and in my blurry state of mind, I always listen.
“Come on, you know you want to,” you call sweetly over the beeping of the alarm. “You work so hard. You deserve 10 more minutes. It’s only 10 minutes…”
But the thing about you, Snooze Button, is I always want more. It’s never just 10 minutes. It’s another 10 minutes, then another, and suddenly I’m late for work and rushing and the whole day starts off on a bad note. I always feel horrible after giving in to you, but somehow I just can’t help myself. You know how to play on my weakness for warm, comfy beds and avoiding going to work for as long as possible. You’re a bad influence, an aider and abettor, and you only make things worse. The brief joy you bring isn’t worth all the hassle that follows.
I’ve tried to quit you so before—oh, so many times. I’ve set the alarm 30 minutes ahead so I don’t have any spare time to gamble with. I’ve set the alarm to blare out rock music very close to my ear. I’ve moved the alarm to my husband’s side of the bed so that I have to physically get up and walk around to the other side of the room in the chill morning air if I want to hit the snooze…and somehow I still manage to stumble, zombie-like, back to my side of the bed, climb back in, and fall into a deep R.E.M. sleep in the approximately 9 ½ minutes left until the alarm goes back off again.
Sometimes I do this several times in a row. This is completely ridiculous.
I clearly have a problem. I am the person they were thinking of when they invented the alarm clock that physically launches itself from the nightstand and rolls away to hide somewhere you can’t find immediately. I love the idea of getting up a little early, having time to enjoy my coffee, and easing into the day with some quiet time to myself. But what I love infinitely more than this idea is sleeping. For a really long time. And then sleeping a little longer. When it comes time to make the crucial decision, this option will always seem like the sweetest possible thing known to man.
Cordelia Makes a Desperate Proclamation
If NaNoWriMo has taught me anything, it’s that sometimes my self-discipline is worth shite, and one of the few things that have the power to compel me to stick with it is telling everyone I can think of that I’m doing it.
Call it what you will: accountability, a support system, the fear of being mocked and taunted if I fail. Whatever it is, it’s a priceless motivator. If the only person holding me to my more difficult goals is myself, I may not necessarily “fail,” but I will certainly let myself slide enough times that it can’t qualify as a resounding success. So, sometimes I need to bring out the big guns. I need to boast far and wide about my intentions, so that when I desperately want to go back on them at 6:30 in the morning, I’m stuck, with nothing to do but suck it up and grumble at my own unfairness.
And so I, Cordelia, do hereby officially proclaim that from this day forth, I will not allow myself to resort to the snooze button. I will do jumping jacks to force myself awake. I will keep an ice cold glass of water next to the alarm with which to splash myself in the face immediately upon awaking. And when that still doesn’t do the trick, I will put a sticky note on the snooze button that reads, “Ha-ha! You already told everyone you were quitting this! Sucker!”
And if I still manage to give in to my weaker tendencies after all that, then I will let you know, and you have full permission to taunt and mock me in such an event.
I apologize in advance to the me of tomorrow morning. But you know, deep down, that this is necessary.
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