Waking Up

As far as I'm concerned, my most irritating habit is my inability to get up in the morning. Admittedly, others might disagree.

At any rate, I've struggled for years with this problem, and have tried a wide variety of solutions, including putting the alarm clock in another room (I slept through it), using a wind-up alarm clock (I couldn't get to sleep because of the ticking), and using a zen alarm clock that woke me with a soft gong (actually, the gong was too soft; I was able to lie in bed, relaxing to it, for hours). Finally, I hit upon the perfect solution: I got married. Now, if I hesitate too long in turning off my alarm, my wife threatens my life, plants her cold feet in the middle of my back, or gives me a searing guilt trip. This, combined with the placement of my alarm clock (halfway across the bedroom) and the station I have it set to (irritating country) usually gets me right out of bed.

Unless, of course, my wife is in New York, in which case all bets are off.

Having talked to friends about this problem, I've discovered that we all have very different mechanisms for sleeping in. Some people are just heavy sleepers, while other people hit the snooze like it's a morphine drip, and still others actually enjoy their alarms. Personally, my problem is over-reliance on the snooze coupled with a tendency toward philosophical thought. In a nutshell, I either hit the snooze button too many times or I start thinking about the song that's supposed to be waking me up.

As I mentioned earlier, I have my clock radio set to a twangy, maudlin country-music station. The combination of bottleneck guitars, rough-hewn voices, and conservative lyrics is usually enough to hurl me out of bed. This morning, however, I got philosophical.

Bad mistake.

The band was Heartland. The song? "I Loved Her First." Here's the video:



If that takes too long to load up, here are the lyrics.

Admittedly, the video made me a little misty. The whole thing about fairy tales and tucking in is sweet, and since I'm a little fairy tale and tucking-in deprived right now, well, it just got to me, okay. Really, men are allowed to cry.

But as for the rest of it, doesn't this song sound like something that Ducky would say to Blane in Pretty in Pink? Think about it:

I was enough for her not long ago
I was her number one
She told me so
And she still means the world to me
Just so you know
So be careful when you hold my girl
Time changes everything
Life must go on
And I'm not gonna stand in your way

These are not the words of a father; they sound like something a jilted lover would say. "I'm not gonna stand in your way"? Jesus! Take a step back, Joe Simpson. From previous experience, I know how hard it is when your child discovers that you're not omnipotent. In fact, I've already taken steps to ensure that George will remain blissfully in the dark until at least her mid-thirties. However, "I was her number one/she told me so" is eerily reminiscent of the "I'm really good at french kissing. My daddy says so." line from National Lampoon's Vacation.

Unfortunately, I made the mistake of mentioning this to my wife, who assures me that it's already on the playlist for my daughter's wedding. Hopefully, the wife will forget.

In the meantime, I now know which song is number one on the Purity Ball hit parade.