By some miracle of nature, we made it to bed before 11 pm last night, and I actually got more than 5 hours of sleep.

That doesn’t happen often around here, and it certainly doesn’t happen often when the kids are out of school.

Robert left for work while I was still sleeping, and since I got to play Snow White, I actually woke up a few minutes before the alarm clock went off.

Two miracles in 24 hours.

Maybe I should go buy some lotto tickets?

I peeked at the clock and saw that I had about 4 minutes to spare.

We’ve had on and off rainy days lately, but, just as the weatherman predicted, I could see the sun shining brightly through my blinds.

I love cold, bright, sunny days.

Click. Three minutes left.

I love my bed. I love the sheets. I love the pillows. And, I love hogging it all when my husband goes to work, which is exactly what I did.

I was buried under my comforter thinking of the short work week. And Pecan Pie. And mashed potatoes. And rolls. And no work. And sleeping late for a few days. And no extra children. And how much I love my bed.

Click. Two minutes left.

Bella wasn’t even stirring yet; I could hear her snoring in her crate, probably dreaming doggie dreams of sleeping late, as well.

I could hear the birds singing outside my window.

I knew my coffee would automatically start brewing when the alarm clock went off.

One minute and counting.

I was ready to hear my favorite dee jays any moment…

I believe I was right in the middle of my own Normal-Rockwell-Folgers-Morning commercial moment.

It was picture perfect.

Until the alarm clock went off.

I forgot that Jordan had borrowed my clock-radio last night, to plug his I-pod into while he took a shower.

And being the almost-teenager that he is, he, of course, turned the volume up to about 50, so he could hear Soula Boy or Taylor Swift or the Black Eyed Peas over the shower.

And, of course , when I asked Chase to return the alarm clock to me last night, because Jordan was staying with a friend and wasn’t here, Chase didn’t know the alarm clock volume was set to AWAKEN THE BLOCK, not just AWAKEN MOM.

That clock hit the designated moment, and the noise that came out of my radio sounded more like a tornado siren than a wake-me-up-slowly lullaby.

An Air Force fly-by would have been quieter.

I don’t know who was instantaneously plastered to the ceiling more-me or Bella.

So, I’m trying again tomorrow with my Folger’s moment.

I’ve got my clock set to a less-than-Van-Halen-concert decible level.

But on Thanksgiving, if anyone asks me to pass the rolls, don’t be surprised if my response is:

‘Huh?’

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