STRANGER THAN FICTION: ALARMING DAY BEGINS WITH LATE AWAKENING

The gesture seemed so sweet at the time.

It was Sunday night, and I was in the middle of my half-hour prepare-for-bed routine, including makeup removal, hair brushing, teeth cleaning and anti-acne cream application. The Other Half appeared in the doorway.

"What time should I set the alarm?" he asked.

That's my husband. Thoughtful, caring, always ready to set an alarm clock for his tired woman.

"Set it for 6 a.m.," I said.

"That early?" he asked.

I told him about my REALLY important breakfast meeting, where a city councilman was giving out Vision 2000 awards to area philanthropists. I told him how nervous I was to be taking pictures at the event because I'm not a real, certified photographer.

He assured me everything would be OK.

So you can imagine my surprise when my eyes popped open Monday morning and I felt remarkably well rested.

It was 7:30 a.m.

The harsh reality hit me like a pink slip.

"It's seven blankety-blank THIRTY!" I screamed, grabbing yesterday's church dress off the floor.

The Other Half jerked awake in time to watch me discover the alarm had been set for 6 P.M. instead of a.m. He felt so bad that he immediately turned over and fell asleep again.

Although it doesn't sound humanly possible, I dressed, brushed my teeth and washed my face in three minutes, arriving at the breakfast meeting all the way across town at 7:45 a.m.

Everyone knew what had happened as soon as I walked through the door. The early-risers looked at me with disdain, realizing I wasn't one of THEM. The story got in the paper, but something went horribly awry with the photo. Let's just say that it could have been a picture of anything. Readers relied on the description underneath to figure out it was somebody getting an award.

The good news is that the councilman felt so sorry for me, he gave me a leftover long-stemmed rose from the ceremony. And the coordinator gave me two pastries.

Ah, philanthropy. Those two manifested its true meaning.

The alarm thing never happens to me unless I've got something really important scheduled.

For example, if it was an average Monday, I'd have to be at work by 8 a.m. If I awoke at 8 a.m., no big deal. I'd just take a hot shower, get dressed, have a leisurely breakfast and stroll in at 8:45 a.m. claiming to have attended an early morning award presentation.

But that wouldn't happen. I repeat, THAT WOULDN'T HAPPEN. Really. I swear.

The last big alarm clock disaster was in Sikeston, when I had an 8 a.m. appointment with a consultant who was going to improve my writing.

Obviously, I didn't make it.

By the time I ran in at 9 a.m., he was humiliating his third reporter. I'd missed the boat.

"PERHAPS it would be a good IDEA to set more than ONE alarm, Miss Nieland," he said, sounding for all the world like John Houseman in "The Paper Chase."

I don't think setting more than one alarm is the answer. As long as I'm married to The Other Half, no clock is safe.

~Heidi Nieland is a member of the Southeast Missourian staff