Izzi and the Alarm

September 28, 2017

Sleeping in the spare room with my phone lying on the carpet beside the bed, alarm set for 5:25 didn’t get the day off to the best start. Waking at 6:15, it was immediately obvious that the combination of the muting effect of the carpeting, added to my not wearing hearing aids when I sleep, compounded by the fact that I have little trouble sleeping, just didn’t work. The men’s prayer meeting had already been in full swing for a quarter hour by the time my feet hit the floor.

Any observant person would not be out of line to ask why I was sleeping in the spare bedroom. Were Linda and I having an (ahem) misunderstanding? The answer is a resounding “No!” I had fully expected to spend the entire night in my own bed, my wife by my side. That is, until Izzi called. It so happened that she wanted to spend the night, and at 9:30, called in her request. Of course, we said, “Come on over; you are always welcome here.” In a few minutes, she showed up at our door, pillow and fan in hand. Therein lies the answer to the question that has been rolling around in your mind.

Izzi has it in her head that she cannot sleep without a fan blowing on her. And when she stays overnight, instead of sleeping downstairs with all the other grandchildren, she opts to stretch out on the floor at the foot of our bed, which can at times make for some fancy dancing in the middle of the night when I am making my way to the bathroom. Usually, we have our big window fan set up for her. Its steady hum is like white noise in the background. 

But last night, Izzi brought her own fan, and when later I came to bed, I lay in the dark hearing a rhythmic hmm, hmm, hmm rumbling in low frequency through the bedroom. Why I can hear that and not my alarm is a mystery, but there you have it. After tossing and turning for half an hour, I finally got up and made my way downstairs. 

It all worked out. We sent Izzi off to school, Linda headed to her exercise class, I got my sermon typed up, and I am thankful for an interesting start to my day, compliments of Izzi, who in her usual manner, gave me a hug and a quick, “Love you,” before bounding out the door. Even missing my prayer group, how can a day that starts like that not be a good one?