Me and Corey Hart

Within two-fifteenths of a second after my alarm sounds each morning, my little hand shoots out of my blanket cocoon to the nightstand to hit the OFF button. On the way back to back to bed, the hand takes a detour to grab my glasses and shove them on my face so I can see the clock and determine exactly how many minutes I have to snuggle in bed and fantasize about unemployment before I absolutely have to get up.

This morning, the same routine: alarm, hand rockets out, alarm off, glasses on. I sat up, startled, in a bleary-eyed panic as a wondered, "DID I GO BLIND OVERNIGHT? I CAN'T SEE!"

It was then I realized I was not wearing my glasses; I had on my sunglasses. All is well. I'm not blind.


Now if you'll excuse me, I must go call my mother to inquire if I suffered severe brain injury in my youth for I'm fairly certain I'm kind of an idiot more often than is normal.