The first feeling is one of absolute panic: seeing the alarm clock beside my bed and knowing that the hands are pointing at the wrong figures. At least, not pointing at the numerals I usually get to see when my eyes first focus on its white face first thing in the morning. The second feeling is one of dismay, of disappointment in myself. How did I manage to sleep too long? The alarm is not the quietest and I have to physically turn it off to stop the ringing noise, which I generally do so that, when I am not alone, no one else gets woken at the wrong time. Clearly I must have switched it off at some point, turned over and gone back into sleep mode. That is not a good thing.
Photo Credit: BramstonePhotography – Creative Commons
I missed my bus this morning, for the first time. And by the first time, I mean the first time ever. I have never been late anywhere through my fault; my punctuality could almost be legendary. Today, however, everything failed me.
The good side, I had an extra hour to get myself ready for college. Not that this is good in the normal sense of things: if I need an extra hour I can get up an hour earlier.
And then the rush from the bus station in Bremen to the tram, the rush from the tram into my lecture hall, and the realization that all was in vain. Our lecturer reported himself ill late last night, and his talk was postponed to another day. Even so, such a feeling of panic. I don’t want to be feeling that ever again.
Love & Kisses, Viki.