And no, I’m not the type to twirl pens or bounce my knee. I break things apart, especially if they have any sort of movable or bendable component. I’ve pried binding rings in half, I’ve ripped apart entire aluminum cans (despite my friend’s fearful cries of, “No!” and “You’ll cut yourself.” And I have.)
And why is this suddenly the focus of my attention? Simple. Because this morning, I managed to frustrate myself nearly to hysterics over something that never would have occurred, could I keep my blooming hands still.
It started innocently enough (Ever notice how very often I use this phrase? Doubting it yet?). I have a hair clip of sorts that I use too keep the hair off the back of my neck when the air-conditioning can’t quite seem to keep up with the heat. I find myself at a loss of how to explain the workings of this clip, but suffice it to say that it contains a spring-loaded hinge of sorts.
See the problem?
This clip was sitting beside my computer (the last place that I had used it) and I found myself playing with it as I read over my email. It was only after trying to (subconsciously, I swear!) force it to fit around my ever-present can of Diet Coke that I decided it would be best if I put it out of harm’s way.
So, in what I must have considered a logical move at that moment in time, I clipped it on to the top of my alarm clock.
I guess I should explain how much I value convenience. I value my convenience so much that I have everything I really need with in sight of each other (bed, computer and television). So, the alarm is just an arms reach away from where I was sitting, and the clip was easily placed out of danger before I went back to (lets be honest) playing around on the Internet.
Later that night when I collapsed into bed, it never occurred to me that I should first remove the (still present) hair clip. Now, were I a normal person, I would have been reminded to remove the clip when setting the alarm. I, however, am more than a tad neurotic and actually set the alarm in the mornings when I get up. No, some things do not deserve an explanation.
Morning comes and I am jolted out of my sleep by the most terribly loud and grating sound in the world (i.e. my alarm), and reaching out blindly to silence the source of my discomfort, slapped the snooze.
Or at least I thought I slapped the snooze. I slapped something, which, in turn, gave a little (much like I rather expected a button would), but instead of ceasing this horrendous nose, the dreadful bleeping continued.
Still half asleep, and positive that I was on the right track, I slapped at the top again, only to have the same happen (the slight give of a button but no relief).
Growing not a tad frustrated, I sat up and growling for the alarm to “Shut-up, damn-it,” jerked it off of the desk and, (unintentionally), into the closest wall.
It was then that I noticed the, still clinging, hair clip.
Mumbling about idiots who couldn’t even remember where they put their damn hair clips, I finally managed to get the stupid thing turned off and began to examine it for damage. Unfortunately, there was not any.
Such a pity. Maybe then I could have gotten a new clock with out such a god-awful alarm.