There is evil in the house.
It resides in a place you never thought to look, yet it rears it’s ugly head at the most inopportune time and it strikes fear in all who encounter it. It most often shows itself in red, digital form but has been known by other identifications as well. It squawks. Sometimes it plays music at unimaginable volumes of incoherence.
The evil of which I speak?
The Saturday morning alarm clock.
Why is it that the man-child in the house can’t figure out his damn alarm clock but can figure out how to subvert Netflix security?
The alarm clock has a week day setting so it only goes off on school days, but NO he has it set for every day of the week. So, Saturday morning rolls around and the 6:00am squawking of a high pitched chirp can be heard throughout the house. There is no escaping it and there is no ignoring it, unless you are he who sleeps right next to it.
I swear if I have to stumble out of bed, half asleep, through a dark house to unplug (yes, I didn’t even bother with switches and nobs) the thing, again, I am going to blow a gasket. I mean like really.
Wait, maybe I’ll self impose the dog house. There are no alarms in there…