Twenty ONE minutes: Day 2--I am retired. I can get up when I want.

or Time is a Construct

There is a podcast (ALT universe?) I enjoy. This morning as I listened to the MBMBAM boys try and settle on a catch phrase for 2021 --I decided to up my promised writing time to 21 minutes per day. So, I will now begin to free write until 7:47am.  

This morning, I was rudely awakened an hour earlier than necessary because (buckle your seatbelt... this is a long ride) the dishwasher is broken. 

In an effort to reboot the control panel on the dishwasher, my very helpy husband flipped ALL the fuses in box. Whilst the power was cut; my Ipod (!) friendly radio/CD player alarm clock lost it's effing mind. DH then "reset" it. NOTE: He did not inform me of these actions. HE JUST TURNED ON THE ALARM FOR fucking 5:56am!! 

So there I am, cozy in my warm bed, half asleep--listening via my earbuds, to smart boys being funny. I was reveling in their joyous laughter...when I hear an odd BEEP BEEP BEEP.  It rapidly ascended to a panic mode alarm that in my sleepy haze, I assumed was Pete's alarm. He often forgets to turn it off. I remove one earbud to ID mystery noise. It was not his alarm. IT WAS MY ALARM! I haven't used that alarm in over 8 years! I stumble towards the bloody thing and struggle to remember which button needs to be pushed. The power outlet is behind my huge dresser and I am not about to move it. The battery light is also flashing so I pop the battery cover to discover white crusty danger residue has built up  

I struggle to remove acid-y AA batteries. Decide I hate the blue glow of this outdated device. Fail to find the STOP button, or the power button. Wonder why there are two different remotes. Wash my hands. Worry about how to dispose of nasty batteries. Stomp downstairs and give DH a piece of my mind. GRRRR.

TIME.