My alarm clock is disturbing by design. Its sound is like the taste of an energy drink, unnatural but appealing enough to use regularly. The machine consistently motivates me out of bed, through the water closet and to the kitchen – where I check the true time. I've a habit of smashing the alarm clock's off button, which is near the time adjustment knob, so my clock is frequently fast. A fast clock is good because I have a slow child. Morgan does not use an alarm clock. She has me. She disables her alarm as a matter of course or off course as a 12-year-old sails. It's not intentional sabotage. She's a messy kid, as most are. The clock gets unplugged when she looks for anything like clean socks or an over do library book. (All library books are over do by definition in my home) My job is to wake her, stuff her with vitamins and blueberry muffins - getting her to school according the government clock. I use a bugle. I play it badly, which has – I find – an improved effect. Other times I use a Viking battle horn, a black skillet,and spoon, or my favorite the David Bowie goblin scream with foot smacking and blanket tussle. We are frequently late to school.