morning head: Wednesday, 27th May, 2015

The alarm buzzes silently at my wrist. It’s an experiment, to find a way to drag myself out from beneath the blankets of oblivion without waking the wife and child hours before they need to be awake. It’s unnecessary. I am awake already.

The cries of snot-clogged infant from the next room have done what many a screaming alarm clock has failed to. It does not take much where he’s concerned. It’s one of the bitter ironies of human nature.

For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to be a lighter sleeper, capable of arising with little prompting and a spring in my step, ready to get to work, rather than having to be bitch-slapped into a modicum of wakefulness, plied with at least a gallon of coffee and then cajoled into doing anything other than staring blankly at the newspaper.

It takes nothing more than the slightest stirring from the small thing in the middle of the bed now to wake me.

It’s not what I was after.

Luckily for me, such occurrences are usually the result of an empty belly, and I’m not much good on that front, so I can roll over and go back to sleep while the wifey sates his hunger.

Not this morning.

I’m not sure in my wildest fantasies (and they mostly are) or darkest dreams (ditto) I’ve ever envisaged sucking snot out of a child’s nose1 in the wee hours.

Morning, breathers.

1 – The propaganda for the Nosefrida is highly misleading. Like the calm, oxygenated faces of soon-to-be crash victims on aeroplane safety cards, the images that depict smiling babies on the receiving end of a Nosefrida are so far removed from reality as to constitute criminal activity. Just try shoving a tube up your baby’s nose, and see how long they maintain that happy, trusting smile while you forcibly vacuum their boogers…