One of those mornings when, just as soon as you semi-wake and you grope around your bed for your phone, while still in this your semi-conscious sleep inertia state, your fingers carelessly move against the phone with an immense rapid movement and what you hear at the next second is a crashing sound; the phone had fallen to the ground.
You know you should go to the other side of the room to get to the light switch, but everywhere is still pitch black, there’s none of that book expression thing where the moon’s light peaks through the curtain, laying light rays which shine around corners of the room thing.
You’re going to need your phone’s light to ‘lay that ray’ even though you’re not quite sure it’s morning yet and you’re not also sure you’re not in a dream and assuming it’s morning. Your phone should have been your light source and time source and the ultimate wake up call.
Yet, it was only one crash sound you heard, or you dreamt you heard. Your fingers felt only one device. So the other phone had to still be somewhere on the bed. Yes, there was another phone. One of the hassles of living in the 21st century is the accumulation of multiple multipurpose devices.
Everybody typically has two handsets these days, for different reasons. If you don’t and you haven’t been nominated for the Most Persevered award, Nigeria owes you greatly! Presumably, here, you have two devices, and while one just took a rain check, the other is seeming to play hard to get.
As your task appear to multiply – you still need a light/time source, you still need to know what phone fell, you still need to find the other phone, you still need to wake up maybe – you decide to alter your phone grabbing approach, the other phone being somewhere on the bed, on some corner oblivious to your efforts in locating it.
Once bitten, plenty shy, you decide to make consecutive taps in succession, on the bed with your palm, like you’re trying to swat a mosquito. This way, your palm could fall on your phone, as opposed to touching the sides while feeling around the bed as that could set it sliding off the bed, as witnessed from the first attempt with the first phone.
It happens. Your palm falls on the phone and you hastily redirect your priority from silently moaning over the crash phone’s lot, to recalling the found phone’s functions. Your groggy eyes haven’t fully opened, the crash awareness hasn’t gotten to your brain waves. Your primary concerns remain to use the light from the found phone and to know the time, in that exact order. Just as you try to get off the bed and direct the light ahead from the found phone to mark your movements, you feel something under your foot.
The crash phone fell so close to the bed. The light from the found phone was barely commensurate to the magnitude of effort put into securing it, as it shone bleakly so much you did not see the fallen phone. Your weight wasn’t too firm on the ground so you suppose the damage on the phone was light. But it wasn’t. The crash first, then now the foot. There were about 3 visible cracks and multiple light ones that formed a web on the phone’s screen, and it was only past 4am.
This time information communicated to your foggy self that you have more sleep time to cover before you should be legitimately awake and bothered about your phone. You were only awake because you had been triggered unconsciously while in your sleep to make use of the bathroom, which after having done so, you head swiftly back to bed. The frustration from the phone searches and phone crashes got to your brain and sure enough you permit it to shut off a while.
You wake up when its already bright, so you can see from the clock ahead that you overslept just a little bit. You rush through everything and get set to leave the house. You have to pick your headset and then your phone last. This is when you see your phone’s screen, and the events of the early hours of the morning swoosh to your mind, making you feel a type of way. Your day just started in an irritable mood, or not.