There are several things that will get you up and out of bed faster than you ever thought possible. My sister and I have had this discussion many times. There are the ones you would expect like a child having a nightmare. Or someone breaking into your house. Though the latter might just make you freeze in place instead and quietly reach for the phone and 9-1-1.
The piercing screech of a smoke detector will rouse you quickly, which of course it’s meant to do. On one of our first nights in the house we heard a detector go off and a computerized woman’s voice say calmly – too calmly – Fire. We were both up and running. It turned out to be a fault in the carbon monoxide sensor.
Note to whomever it is that makes these things. The voice should have just a tad more urgency.
A house alarm will get you up and “adam,” which is actually up and at ‘em, a derivative of a military term of Up, Guard, and at them. I love when people say up and adam. Much like I love when people say prolly instead of probably, or intensive purposes rather than intents and purposes. This mangling of idioms and the English language is fodder for another blog post.
Another thing that gets you up and at ‘em is the sound of a puking dog. This is the discussion my sister and I have had. It will usually go something like this:
“How are you?”
“I’m kind of tired today.”
“Didn’t you sleep?”
“I did, but the dog got sick – “
“And nothing gets you up and out of bed faster” than the retching sound of a dog about to lose his cookies. It doesn’t matter who initiates the dialogue because it is always much the same. At least dogs give you warning. They begin that convulsive sound and you just know what’s coming. You toss the covers aside and your feet hit the floor as you simultaneously call for the dog who won’t come because hello-getting sick here and so you reach for his collar and try desperately to at least get him off of the carpet. It is not easy moving an 80-pound dog that doesn’t want to be moved.
This is but one reason why we now have only tile in the house. Much easier to clean, on all levels.
All of which brings me to this morning. It was early, about 5:45. The sky was still dusty. Not quite dark, not yet light. Kevin got up and I mumbled something about what are you doing it’s Saturday.
He informed me that he was going to get some rocking done. More swale work to abate the erosion issues on the sides of the house. I muttered OK, and be careful and I’ll be up soon. But it was still too early. Riley wasn’t even up yet. Kevin pulled clothes out of the closet, his customary rocking outfit of a pair of Levis with holes in all the best places and a long sleeve tee shirt, equally holely. He grabbed socks and his work boots and padded out to the kitchen. Barefoot.
You see where this is going, right?
I rolled into the middle of the bed, which I often do because it’s cooler and started to drift back to sleep. I just wanted another half hour. A lousy 30 minutes. I wasn’t asking for much. It’s Saturday after all. I get to sleep in until 6:30 on Saturdays.
Then, I heard it. The yelling, cursing, shouting, swearing, anger and general pissed-off-ness. All coming from the direction of the still-dark kitchen.
I was up and out of bed as fast as if the dog had been retching. I raced toward the kitchen.
“Don’t come down here,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“What happened?” I said from the steps leading up toward the bedroom.
“I stepped on another one.”
I will not go into detail about what the “another one” was. Suffice it to say that if you know about the desert, what you’re thinking is probably correct. We hunted it down and killed it, deposited it off the deck and back into the desert from which it had come.
But I was up. Out of bed. Fast. While it wasn’t the way we wanted to start our Saturday, Kevin least of all, at least we were up. The day was beginning with a bang, or rather a bite. Let the celebrations begin.