A clock-work...clock.

In what is now considered to be my personal best; I managed to play ignorant to my alarm clock this morning for a total of 32 minutes.

My alarm clock is analogue. A primitive creature of cogs and gears, it is not strong on 'people how' and as such, does not know when to take a break from its duty. Once the alarm starts, it won't stop until an hour passes or you (in most cases 'I')stop it. A beast of routine is my alarm clock, a feverish slave to compulsion...and you'll have to excuse my impending anthropomorphism, but Mr. Alarm, you are an arse. (a human arse, if the 'mr.' wasn't clear enough)

Being late is a hassle, mainly because the late accumulates further late, so you can never be X minutes late if X is equal to the original quantity of late. My 32 minutes grew another 25 in the time I spent being late, that's a total of 57 minutes.

"Almost an hour late" <--- words. Words spoken by the person expecting me at least 57 minutes earlier. Needless to say I'm in a bit of bother as i type, but that's the least of my worries...

For 32 minutes this morning I was subjected to noise torture and I have absolutely no recollection of it...nor can i possibly fathom the impact it'll have on me sexually.