This weekend was great in at least one way: sleeping in for four straight days. Not one day did I wake up before 9. It was, to put it modestly, excellent in every imaginable way. Sleeping in is like winning 20 gold medals in a single Olympics. It's like being elected president of every prosperous nation and never having to deal with any problems. It's like living on the moon, if the moon was a lush paradise of a planet instead of a harsh, deadly wasteland.
But with every long weekend comes the inevitable Monday (or in the case of Memorial Day, the inevitable Tuesday), and that Monday is today. I knew it was coming, and I thought I was prepared. But I did not expect my horrid alarm clock to go off. By the second shrill beep, my spirit was crushed. It was as if God was sounding the trumpet of Judgment Day. Actually, it wasn't like that at all, but I was really annoyed that I had to get up about 3 hours earlier than I had any of the past four days.
So now I don't have an alarm clock anymore. That's right, I smashed it. I would say I have no regrets, but that line is taken. Plus I have several regrets.
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