Mr. Spit confessed, in a teeny, tiny voice that maybe, just maybe:

he turned down the volume on my alarm clock as it went off
at an obscenely early hour on Sunday.

You will notice, he confessed in email, composed and sent from an office located several kilometers away from me, much later in the afternoon, such that I had recovered from the fearsome and horrific start that was my morning.

I suppose we will forgive him for his unkindness.

And be thankful that I don't have to learn a new alarm clock. I can see this one. And mostly, I can use it. And it's (generally, except when Mr. Spit tinkers with it) loud enough to wake the dead, which is about the volume required to rouse me out of bed of a morning.

So, we won't mention the excess stress he caused me, and the fact that sleeping in late on this morning of all mornings probably caused me to loose 2 years off my life, and almost certainly gave rise to the improbable but true blood pressure reading of 105/100 this am.

I am wondering though, is it possible to have a blood pressure of 100/105?

And we will make clear, such confession is only granted because of the victorious feeling received from loosing five. whole. pounds. from my body. (Alas, not in my chest!)