The Art of Hitting the Snooze Button

Posted On December 14, 2020

I wake up twice every morning.

The first time I wake up is at 4 am. This is the time I like to wake up. My alarm is set to this time. If I can will myself out of bed at 4 am, I’ll have time to meditate and sit at my kitchen table to slowly drink my morning coffee, maybe even get in some reading or writing before heading out. The second time I wake up is at 4:30 am. This is when I truly wake and get out of bed, after hitting the snooze button for 30 minutes. At 4:30, I have just enough time to wash up, make my pour-over coffee, gather lunch, let the dog out, and rush out of the house.

How Mrs. Disengaged sleeps through this barrage of alarms in the first half of the 4 am hour, I’ll never know. Luckily, it doesn’t seem to bother her. But it bothers me a great deal to not get up on the first alarm. I’ve always prided myself on getting up early no matter how I feel.

In the Navy, (where I learned the art of waking up early) no matter the hour of the night or day, when my Timex Ironman alarm went off I’d stumble out of my rack, shuffle out of berthing, and go to the head and rub water in my eyes. Water in my eyes has always been my trick for waking up instantly. A quick shave, tidying of the rack, then I’d be off down the narrow passageways and steep ladders to wherever it was I was going—likely a watch shift, deep down in the fiery bowels of the ship.

Back then, there was no snooze option. I think it might even be illegal to say the word “snooze button” in the Navy. When the alarm goes off you get up. Pretty simple. From the age of 18, barring a massive hangover, I’ve been pretty good at getting up without any snooze hitting. This is why my sudden snooze button action is disconcerting.

Early Bird

I love the mornings. It’s usually a quiet time. The possibilities for a good day are endless in the early hours. The entire day is ahead of me waiting to be lived. The saying, “If you’re on time, you’re late.” Rings too true for me. And it often puts me at odds with my type B wife.

My double wake up routine didn’t start till this past summer. I’m not too sure why I’ve been failing to get up at my normal 4 am. It could be age. I’m 37 now. Might be I need the extra sleep. The cold? My job? My bed? I’ve tried to think up a dozen reasons why I’m so inclined to say fuck 4 am and pound the snooze button this year.

Lately, another theory has manifested as to the reason why I’m so snooze button happy: I now have a life after work.

My remodel “Tenant Improvement” job lets me leave at 2 pm every day. I’m the only guy from my company onsite, and when the trades leave I have no reason to hang out in an empty two room site all by myself.

I walk into my house at 3:30 pm with my two girls in tow. Being home so early gives me time to tidy up the house on a weekday afternoon, even do some yard work if I feel really ambitious. I started using this time to teach my 7-year-old to play chess (already she’s learned the Sicilian Defense and how to castle). I might read. Maybe play a game of FIFA on the PS4.

More often, my daughters and I go for a leisurely afternoon walk around the block and just talk. Conversations with my 7 year old have been blowing my mind lately. I love explaining the world to her, and when she asks questions that I don’t have the answer to, we look them up together. My 3-year-old is content chasing leaves and racing her tricycle along the walking path on our walks, while occasionally throw out well-timed F-bombs, as she’s been inclined to do as of late.

“Aww, Daddy. Look at those birdies playing. They’re so fuckin’ pretty. Look!” She’ll passionately tell me as she hits the tricycle brakes and hops off for a better look. Running across the grass until the birds flutter away frightened.

These F-bombs can be embarrassing in front of other people, but they’re secretly hilarious to me. I have to scold her for saying bad words while keeping from laughing out loud at the same time. Even my oldest daughter gets offended by the cussing.

Mrs. Disengaged doesn’t get home till 6 or 7 pm, so we get a good 3 hours of father-daughter bonding till then. It’s been amazing having this time in the afternoon with the girls.

I might be falling for this new small job “Tenant Improvement” division at work. Falling hard.

8 hours of work and a 30-minute one-way commute is divine and does wonders for the soul. This job I’m running is tiny, maybe 10 guys working here on a busy day, compared to 300 workers to worry about on my typical sort of job. I also don’t have to argue with anyone. Arguing is the worst part about being a superintendent for me. This small job is so simple that there’s nothing to argue about. Phone calls and emails are almost non-existent to the point that I worry my job has been forgotten.

Now that I have time in the afternoons, I don’t really need the extra time in the mornings anymore. This is probably why I hit the snooze button each morning. My free time has hit a nice equilibrium. I can’t remember the last time I had such a nice work-life balance. Prior to this new small job division work, I’d leave the house at 5 am and return sometime around 7 pm. Leaving me 2 hours or so after work to hang out with the family and eat, before falling asleep at 9 pm.

Those were tough days. And I have it infinitely easier now.

Yes, this small job, remodeling type of work is turning out to be pretty freakin’ nice. I’m on the verge of asking my new boss if maybe it’s possible for me to stay in this division…but something is holding me back.

What’s the problem I have with asking to stay on the small job side? A job where I can get off early and don’t have to argue with anyone?

My damn ego.

I want to do the big jobs. I don’t want the stress or the problems or the long hours of the big jobs, but I want the glory and the prestige that comes with a grueling challenge. If I’m honest with myself, and you, it feels good to build these landmarks across the Bay Area. It feeds my ego. Would I feel the same pride building out a Starbucks and mall stores or whatever else small job construction entails?

It’s a bit sad to admit to myself that there’s still a small side of me who would give up time with my family to chase glory and potentially more money in the process. I like big hectic jobs, but then again, that’s all I really know.

I try to view things, if I can, from the position of being on my death bed looking back over my life. Would I regret not working harder for a title and money? Or not having that time with my young daughters, playing chess, and going for bike rides on a weekday afternoon. As I like to say, my worst fear in this life is to be an old man with many regrets.

Viewed this way the answer is simple.

The next job

In a very casual way last week, my boss called up asking for some extra bags of grout I might have onsite, and also to query a bit on the progress of the job.

“How’s the job going?” He asked.

“Great. Almost finished. We’ll be done on the 16th.”

“That job you’re going to on the 17th—it’s important you start that day so we get a good turnover. So make sure you really are done with everything on the 16th. You’ll be watching the job while the superintendent over there takes a few weeks off for the holidays. He comes back after New Year’s Day, then we’ll get you in somewhere else.”

He told me about the next job so casually that I almost laughed. As if I already knew about this new job he was sending me to.

With those few sentences, this nagging uncertainty of where the next dollar would come from floated away as easily as a feather caught in the wind. Funny how a couple of words can have such a sway over our emotions. It probably meant nothing to a busy guy like him to tell me where I was going, but it was the world to me.

“They’ll tell you about the next job when they’re ready to send you.” Is the old saying. I carry a lot of baggage with me from the field. Maybe this mindset is one of them.

How would he have known how important this information was to me? Did I ever ask him where the next job was? No, of course not. I can’t expect him to read my mind, either. Maybe this is a lesson for me to be upfront with him, and throw all this old school construction etiquette to the curb.

I’ve purposefully given my boss plenty of opportunities to mention where I might go next. Each query over the last month or so had been artfully rebuffed and dodged. To the point where it made me a bit nervous.

“We’re almost finished here. I copied you on the schedule I sent out, right?” Or, “I’m going to be all wrapped up here on 12/16, so….”. I’d say during our rare phone conversations.

“Windy these last few days, huh?” He’d respond, or elicit some other similar form of chit chat about traffic or the holidays.

But there’s work till New Years…and I’ll take it.

How have you balanced personal ambition versus the easy road? Have you ever regretted taking the easy road in life instead of challenging yourself? Are you a snooze button hitter?