Thirteen years ago this week...
My brother, also in exile among barbarians, came to my house and commenced to pound on my door at 6:15 on a Tuesday morning...because he wanted a screwdriver...of which he had at least seven. It took me a while to realize that the loud pounding noise would not just go away. I stumbled out to the kitchen, shoved the blasted screwdriver at him and stumbled back into my room; all the while managing to avoid fully opening my eyes. I had six minutes left until the alarm sounded, and I knew exactly how I intended to spend them.
I was completely frustrated when he followed me into my room and would not let me go back to sleep. He trapped me there and started asking me strange questions. "What station is on your alarm? When is it set to go off? What time do you have to leave the house in order to get to work and not be late?" Then he turned on the radio and cranked it up to an ear blasting "can't ignore it even if you want to" level. Meanwhile, the only morning person in the house, my roommate and sister, was strangely quiet.
I gave up on further sleep, and stomped into the bathroom. In spite of my surly muttering, it was possible to hear the bizarre story about the woman who had a hot-air balloon land in her car as she went through a McDonald's drive-through. That did manage to catch my attention. So I heard the announcer say, "This next story involves someone in our listening area." He told me that my boyfriend was outside with a dozen roses and a bag of donuts. Then I heard, "and he wants to know, will you marry him?"
In my fragile state (awake before 8:03, remember?) it took me a while to realize I should do something other than stand there and gawk at my brother. I glanced out the window and saw the neighbor hightailing it across my backyard. That kicked me into gear. My boyfriend was out there with breakfast and a ring, and she was after those powdered sugar covered cake donuts!
I ran to the back door, threw it open and screamed, "Yes. Yes, and I want some donuts, too!" I promptly turned around and ran back to the bathroom. My attempt to resemble someone he would still want to marry gave my siblings ample opportunity to devour that entire sack of donuts. Happily, for everyone involved, they informed me that my parents were waiting to see the ring; and Dad was making pancakes, so no one was seriously injured. They ate most of my wedding cake too, but that's another story.