They say opposites attract. If that’s the case, hubby and I are well matched. I swear by chocolate shakes, he’s a strawberry guy. He loves fish; I’m a red meat gal. I’m a night owl and he retires early with a book. And then there is the one deal breaker: He likes enough light to be able to maneuver at night. I require complete and absolute darkness.
It’s that last trait that got us into trouble last week. You see, both of us have been noting that our old alarm clock is just too small to read from across the room. Laying in bed and squinting at it, we can just barely make out the red digital numbers. That’s why I was so excited to have found a clock with a huge digital display. I should have known better.
As is his habit, hubby retired while I stayed up watching TV until late. Standing on the deck with the dogs for their ‘last time out,’ I noticed a strange glow emanating from our bedroom window. In spite of the darkening drapes on the slider door, the blue neon light was clearly visible. It looked like one of those scenes from a Sci-Fi that illustrates an alien presence in a house with an eerie illumination pouring under the cracks in the door and through the keyhole.
Fearfully, I opened the bedroom door. I fully expected to find a creature from another world, or at least Sigourney Weaver battling a monster dripping slime. What I saw chilled me to my very bones. Not only could I easily see the clock’s face without my glasses, but the cobalt colored phosphorescence revealed every detail of the room…it was virtually ablaze with light. Just like daytime, only blue.
I tried (for awhile) to sleep. I pulled the covers over my head. I strategically placed pillows to block the rays. Nothing worked. So, I pulled the plug from the wall and happily entered a darkened dreamland.
An hour later I was awakened by a beast-like roar. “Why did you disconnect my clock?” he bellowed. He turned on the bright overhead lamp to reconnect the beastly glow-monster, growling about my interference with his ‘favorite clock’ (good Lord, he’d only had the thing for one night).
“I cannot sleep with that thing,” I said.
“Too bad,” was his gentle and thoughtful reply.
At that I grabbed my pillows and made a dramatic exit to the living room sofa. I made quite a show of my sacrifice the next morning, whining about my crinkled spine, my cramped legs. Hubby finally relented and unplugged the glow-clock. “I liked it a lot,” he said, sadly.
“Too bad,” was my gentle and thoughtful reply.
I do have a use for this clock, however. Overnight visitors are sometimes quite taken aback by the absolute dark skies of the Island. Even with small nightlights in the guest room and bath, they are not used to the deepness of the midnight hours here. That won’t be a problem any more. For guests at our house will be treated to a brilliant iridescence in their room.
And as I fell asleep in my blackened cave the next night, I smiled as I thought back over the previous evening. Not bad, I thought. A problem for the guests solved and a marriage saved. Not bad for one sleepless nights work.