Snooze Bars and Taking Thread

Christmas past, my mother was reminiscing with my grandmother about how she used to be upset with how frequently her son was getting his face stitched up, 5 times in all to be exact. While I’m not exactly DeNiro in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, a number of high-sticks, elbows and pucks over the years of competitive hockey have meant 14 or so loops over 4 different sessions. The other time was not so macho glamorous I’m afraid.

As a youth, like many young boys, I had an early morning paper route. I was a reliable paper boy for the most part; you could rely on your paper being on your doorstep every morning, and you could rely on it being dry no matter the weather. However, you couldn’t rely on it being there with any timed consistency as some mornings I’d be out there on my metal-basketed BMX at 6 am and other days I’d only be fetching the papers out of the drop box at 6:40.

Long story short, as a result of a small and cluttered bedroom, my all-important alarm clock was most nights simply resting on the mattress next to me. All too frequently, I would simply have to aim a short slap in the direction of the annoyance to purchase another 10 minutes of slumber without having to become even slightly cognizant. 3 or 4 slaps later, my father would be in the room rousing me and rushing me out the door.

Eventually, my father came up with the idea that locating the alarm on my study desk (which paired with a dresser and bed to make up my entire room) would force me out of the bed and accordingly bring me round and get me out the door on time. It seemed logical enough.

The searing torment of the cacophony that did not cease with my frantic pounding of the mattress around me was indescribable. In a semi-conscious panic, I shot out into the darkness towards the source of the malevolence. Whether I tripped over one of the many items on my floor, or whether my groggy legs failed me, I’ll never know. The underside of my chin bounced off the edge of the desk full-force to the tune of four stitches and many disappointed subscribers.

As a result, the fibrous ridge of skin under my chin is a constant reminder how I really could’ve used a nightstand that fateful morning. A means of keeping the alarm clock just slight out of easy reach so I would have had to step out of la-la land long enough to get a grasp on exactly what I was doing. A bedside table would have taken away the need for the cross-room solution and its chaotic and bloody consequences.

Preventive measures are yours to be had at nightstandselect.com, a division of Cymax Stores Online and a recommended means of ensuring peace of mind at your bedside. They offer a wide selection of night stands for any bedroom, understanding that choosing a bedside table needs to be based on both style and function considering the value it has to the start of your day and its end.

For years I told people a skate had come up and got me under the chin.