Brain dead…

So, I woke up this morning, glanced at the clock, and realised it read three minutes past the hour. I leaped out of bed into the pitch black, just knowing that my phone was going to buzz to tell me Clare was on her way at any moment. I threw myself across the living room towards the bathroom in an attempt to make myself look and feel somewhere near presentable. I pretty much bounced off the walls back into my bedroom and flung open the wardrobe doors…

Are you getting the sense of urgency here? Because there was urgency – believe me, there was urgency.

It was as I stared, still sleep-blind, into my wardrobe that I realised that my alarm hadn’t gone off. I hadn’t heard the hour long radio interruption that usually forces me from my bed in the morning. Come to think of it, it was still very dark outside: not the usual, pre-dawn, dark, but pitch black. And I couldn’t hear the usual movement or smell the toast burning in any of the other flats in the building…

For the first time I really looked at the clock, Yup, it was, by now, 7 minutes past the hour. But the hour was three. As in 3AM.

Even I don’t get up that early!

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