Love may know no bounds and be limitless, but nothing in this world could ever touch the relationship I have with my bed in between waking up on my first alarm and actually getting out of bed.
You know that scene in X-Men when they drag a young Magneto away from his parents and he rips the gate off its hinges trying to get back to them? If I could, I would do that. I think thoughts in that time period that are shameful. Shameful and wrong. Unicorns and puppies would gnash their teeth if they knew my thoughts in those moments. Nuns would blush if they came within a 100 mile radius of the vile that spills forth from my mind. I.don't.want.to.get.up.
I would give up anything and everything I've ever worked for, just to stay in bed for 10 more minutes. If it were the day before graduation and a small man, voiced by Robin Williams, appeared after my first alarm went off with the choice of getting up and becoming a doctor or staying in bed for 20 more minutes with guaranteed warmth and a return to that dream with the cakes, shaped like fun animals, I might just take those cakes. The fact that I ever get up should be rewarded with some sort of medal and a key to a city. Not Cleveland.
Whenever this comes up, someone will invariably say, "You use 3 snoozes? Why don't you just get up?". That's like saying, "You would do anything for her? She's just another human on this planet." If you have to ask, you just aren't there yet. You haven't been sleep deprived enough to really, well, understand. I feel sorry for you.
Er, wait, me; I'm feeling sorry for me.