The start of morning turns would-be friends into traitors. Traitors, that is, in the battle against the daily foe of pre-dawn—of 6:30 AM. At nighttime, bedrooms and bathrooms are filled with weapons against morning tiredness and tardiness; at waking time, they are filled with weapons against contented rest and warmth—a betrayal of the most personal kind.

Take the alarm clock, for example. Its impulsive aural Violence supplies no calm awakening to its master, defaulting on the kindest sense of its duty. And is not that sense of duty its full responsibility? The minute-old mind at 6:31 AM would certainly believe so. Fight back, and take a mighty swat at the snooze button, if only to delay the enemy for a while.

Such a delay works until Warmth, she who resides regally under blankets and covers, beckons as temptress, enchantress, and seductress. Once a most intimate lover, knowing her enshrouding embrace now seems not a little appealing. No doubt her love at 6:37 AM ought to be no less passionate, if not more so, than it had been throughout the night. But to give in to Warmth is to give in to Bed; to give in to Bed is to give in to Sleep; and to give in to Sleep is to lose the battle—three friends, three temptations, three betrayals.

Then Water comes. At 6:40 AM, the life-giving matter is not refreshing; it is frigid. Send a splash to the face because routine dictates so, and feel that painful chill, that overwhelming desire to lay down arms and retreat to Bed and lover Warmth. Don’t; rather, take up the ponderous weapon right there and begin the drowsy, repetitive act of teeth brushing. Take up another to mold the hairstyle of a presentable self-image. Take up a soap bar and wonder why this everyday routine extends both tiredness and tardiness.

A bathroom clock gives irrefutable evidence to the presence of tardiness. Such a friend as a clock should bestow from its hands the gift of Time, not Panic, and certainly not both. Yet both exist at 6:50 AM, making surrender to sleep sound all the more sweet: surely the treacherous intent of the analog clock. And so turn on the light and burn away friendly darknesses in which to hide; dressing into clothes is now a task worthy of nothing less than electric illumination.

But at 7:00 AM, Violence, Warmth, Water, and their traitorous colleagues all rest in their respective residences, perhaps rejoicing in their failure to make sleep more enticing. Or maybe their hard-fought battle was never designed to make awakening such a burden. Maybe, maybe, they simply highlight the blessings of sleep.

Appreciate it.