Deedle-dee-BOOP!

It was the morning after the night before.

(Note: to younger readers who haven't ever over-indulged themselves (yet) on too much turkey, too much food, too much dessert, and W A A A Y too much wine, the preceeding phrase accurately describes the state of mind about eight hours after such carousing has finished, and long before the room has stopped spinning.)

The early morning greyness was disturbed by a tiny electronic signal, coming from Hubby's cell phone.

Deedle-dee-BOOP!

The brain acknowledges the signal, but the body finds it unnecessary to do anything. It's just an electronic imitation of a quiet, tinkling bell, tiny, coming from very far away. The peaceful snoring continues without a hiccup.

Deedle-dee-BOOP!

sleep sleep sleep

Deedle-dee-BOOP!

Heavy sigh from Hubby, who needs to pee and is hungry already. He fumbles for his glasses, picks up the phone, and plods wearily off to the kitchen to eat his cereal. Every few minutes the Deedle-dee-BOOP! is repeated. Finally, all goes quiet. Hubby later informs me he had removed the batteries from the phone and re-inserted them.

Hubby returns to his warm bed with a thud and a cuddle, and sinks blissfully back into oblivion, tummy full, electronic voice stopped, all's well with the world...

Deedle-dee-BOOP!

It can't be....

Deedle-dee-BOOP!

I say "why don't you just turn the whole phone off and deal with it later when you're more awake, dear?"

Deedle-dee-BOOP!

Hubby sighs again, picks up the phone and his glasses, and tries to poke at the tiny buttons while lying on his back.

Deedle-dee-BOOP!

poke poke poke

Deedle-dee-BOOP!

Hubby sighs and pushes the covers away and sits on the edge of the bed.

poke poke poke

poke poke poke

Deedle-dee-BOOP!

poke poke.....

Silence.

Grinning, Hubby puts down the phone and the glasses and snuggles under the covers once again, and says (in a voice that indicates he is VERY pleased with himself) "got it! I turned the alarm to silent!"

Half chuckling, he rolls over.

Deedle-dee-BOOP!, accompanied by a loud buzzing as the phone dances across the bedside table.

At this point I begin to laugh, since it's obvious we are not going to get back to sleep.

"It's happening, dear!" I say in my teasing voice.

"What's that?" Grumpy. poke poke poke.

Deedle-dee-BOOP! v i b r a t e

"We're getting old, dear. Past it. Yes, even you, the GREAT ELECTRONICS GUY are getting old, losing your touch!"

Deedle-dee-BOOP! v i b r a t e

"The day will come, my love," I continue, "when we will both be forced to ask our children to fix our alarms, our clocks, our gps, all our electronic devices for us. When our sight will be too dim, our hearing gone, out fingers too fat, and our memories too short to remember all the little things we have to do to work all this stuff!"

Deedle-dee-BOOP! v i b r a t e

I'm giggling.

In the especial tone of voice Hubby uses when addressing the unfortunate masses who require his magic touch, his steady head, his unfathomed depth of knowledge of all things electronic, the tone of voice that makes everyone who hears it painfully aware of just how far down the evolutionary ladder Hubby thinks they are currently located, Hubby replies, "I don't think so."

And, right on cue - couldn't have scripted it for a sitcom any better -

Deedle-dee-BOOP!

It happens to everyone, you know! And nobody ever expects it!