Tuesday, May 7

how to wake a regan

Let me begin with a sad truth: one night at Lake Powell, after rising from a coma-like nap, I entered the kitchen.  On my brother's sunburnt face were three scabbed-over streaks extending diagonally from forehead to chin.  When I noticed the facial butchery, I asked what happened.  In return, my family just stared at me, disbelieving.  Finally my mother chimed in, "You did that.  When he tried to wake you earlier."  This was clearly horrifying news because I would never consciously inflict physical pain on that adorable, undeserving child.  But sleeping Regan is, unfortunately, a different story.

In short: I am not the kindest person when asleep or in the vicinity of unconsciousness.

So, for those who may ever inherit the unfortunate task of waking me, I have compiled a list of dos and don'ts to consider:

DO: Ensure you have a legitimate cause for waking me.  I will slice your face if you pull me from slumber to discuss something you just ate, a funny comic you read, a movie you're considering watching.  Pretty much: don't wake me up just to talk.  It will take about 30 minutes post wake-up for me to recover my ability to politely converse, so you'll find better company elsewhere.

DO: End whatever you say to me with, "And if you get up soon I'll give you Nutella."  Because, duh.  Nutella.

DO: Start with an apology.  I'm less resentful if you at least seem sorry to end my sleep.  Sometimes Conlin appears almost gleeful when waking me and that doesn't.  Go.  Well.

DON'T: Shove a camera in my face.  This one seems obvious, huh?  Well, tell that to the husband.  I can't even count the number of times I've been aroused by Conlin snapping photos or filming my sleep. I'm pretty sure hell will just be you being repeatedly woken from a nap via camera.

DON'T: Crouch above me and do jazz hands while saying, "But I'm not touching you!  I'm not touching you!" *cough* Conlin.  

DON'T: Wake me up because you're bored.  I took a nap Saturday and Conlin was, I assume, dreadfully restless.  About thirty minutes in my phone started vibrating in the most annoying of fashions.  It wasn't a call, wasn't a text.  Finally I rolled over, and saw the following:

And on....and on.  He sat in bed furiously typing single-word Facebook messages and joyfully listening to my phone's frantic alerts.  In my disgruntled attempts to silence my phone, I knocked my phone off the nightstand and followed with something intelligent like, "Yeah, and stay there."  Oh, how Conlin delighted in my confused tantrum.  I appreciate the situational comedy now, but the humor was lost on me Saturday.

Anyway, in closing: if you must ever wake me?  Consult the above list and then, for good measure, invest in a face mask, long sleeves, and maybe some gloves.


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