My grandmother gave me this alarm clock when I turned 6 years old. It's purple, it's a Conair, and I love it. It's the size of a 3x5 card, and about an inch and a half thick. Like I say, it's dark purple, like California Raisins purple with red LED's. I love it for two reasons. Frist, it has fallen off the bunk-bed or the nightstand or the bookshelf (as I scramble to shut it off in the dark) a bajillion and a half times and it still works flawlessly. (Actually, right now it's about 20 minutes fast, but that's not it's fault)
The second reason I love it is that it is just an alarm clock. That's it. It's shows the time, and it wakes you up. There's no radio, no second setting for the time in London or Tokyo, no GPS, and no iPod dock. Seriously, I almost missed my flight once because the alarm clock at the hotel was apparently too complicated for me to figure out. I've taken to morning calls when I travel.
And c): I love that the snooze is exactly nine minutes. That non-decimal system number has helped me wake up for 24 years. There's no way you're going to sleep longer after having figured out how much less time you have to get ready if you sleep for nine more minutes. Math beats Folger's every time.
However, each time that old familiar claxon rings early on a Saturday morning, it is serious danger of winding up on the street three stories down.
Like yesterday, when it rang at 7:18 (minus 20, plus one snooze) I rolled out of bed and almost smashed it to the ground. I was dreaming of red lasers and purple shrapnel.
Then I remembered: Help Portrait is today. Click through for the rest of the story...






