The bane of deep, serene slumber stands idly waiting for the moment to explode into unwanted pandemonium. As soon as the demon erupts in the serenity of untainted airwaves, there passes a few moments of inaction. As we sprint from the closing figure in our unexplainable dreams, we are unfortunately (or thankfully) ripped from the unconscious limbo to address the sudden disturbance.
Our eyelids unravel to reveal two weary lenses straining to survey the environment for the nuisance. Like a dormant volcano bellowing its century-old contents, we unwillingly tear ourselves from the warm cocoon and gingerly place our feet onto the chilled floor.
Our body moans with cracks and pains from the hiatus from movement. Our tender muscles contract to bring life to our vessel. In a zombie-like motion, we clumsily struggle to the squawking box. Squinting through the darkness, we vaguely identify the master controls and silence the perpetrator.
Following our triumph we are faced with the morning debacle: to sleep or not to sleep? Our body, heart, and tired soul crave for a few, supposedly beneficial minutes of tranquility, but our rationale begins prepping for a day of achievement.
We can only thank one entity for this exigency: the alarm clock. As much as we despise its rude introductions to an otherwise blissful morning, we must appreciate its underlying love: allowing us to be kings of the day.