The Alarm Clock Tango

There are two types of people in this world: those who snooze and those who don't. Mr's the former. I'm the latter.
I set my phone's alarm for 7:00am every weekday, and 8:00am on Sundays. The alarm rings, I shut it off ASAP, and I head to the bathroom to start my routine. On days I didn't get enough sleep, I'll ease into the day by checking my email first before heading to the bathroom. For me this is the start of a leisurely morning. I'm physically ready by 7:30, dressed, hair done, make-up applied. That gives me 35 minutes to check my email some more, look on facebook, watch the CBS Early show, make my lunch, make the bed, and do the dishes. By the time I leave at 8:05, I'm a fully functioning and awake person.
Mr., on the other hand, has a complex system involving his phone alarm and an actual alarm clock that I bought freshman year of college. At 6:30, his phone alarm goes off. At 6:40, the actual alarm. He continues to snooze and reset until he finally rolls out of bed, which has lately been after I've finished brushing my teeth. This means that I actually wake up at 6:30 and just sort of lie there until my alarm goes off.
The awkwardness of the half-hour between his first alarm and my alarm is compounded by the face that he sleeps on the side of the bed adjacent to the wall, requiring him to either crawl over me or exit at the foot of the bed in order to hit his snooze button. It's an interesting dance we do each morning.
I wonder how the routine will change when he starts OB. Only 2 more weeks of Medicine. *whew*

This morning after the alarm clock tango, I was commuting to work, as I do every morning, and at the 2nd to last stop in the Borough, the pre-recorded announcement told us: "This is the last stop on this train; everybody please leave the train. Thank you, and have a safe day." Some passengers got off. Many of us stayed on waiting to see if there would be an actual announcement by a live person. It's not totally unheard of for the operators to press the wrong announcement button in there. 30 seconds to a minute later, the same pre-recorded message was played. At that point, most of the remaining passengers deboarded...until we heard the voice say, 'Stand clear of the closing doors, please', at which point we rushed back on the train. A number of passengers remained on the platform, which meant those of us who had boarded now all had seats. Sweet. The train continued into Manhattan. Suckers!