An Alarm Clock's {Inevitable} Demise

My phone is my alarm clock.

Lately, when I wake up in the morning, I'm clutching my phone with some kind of white-knuckle death-grip.  As I've groggily tried to monitor how this happens, I've come to realize I have developed a strange habit.

Each morning, when my alarm goes off for the first time, I grab it with ninja-like reflexes.  However, because I'm not quite awake, I don't push the buttons to turn it off.

I don't have the time to find the buttons!!!

(Or the brain power...)

So, to turn it off, I just squeeze it.  Really.  Hard.  In the hopes that one of my fingers will eventually find and push a button.

Sometimes, though, they don't find a button.  At these times, I shove it under my pillow and keep squeezing it harder and harder--sometimes adjusting my grip.  When it finally turns off, my grip relaxes a little... until the second alarm comes on.

I'm afraid that as my six (count them--six) alarms ring every morning, the grip of my right hand isn't just going to remain static.  Like all muscles, it has to be getting stronger with each time I use it.  I'm afraid that some morning, I'll wake up and look like some kind of fiddler crab with a Hulk-sized right arm.

And on that morning, when I wake up after my alarm-clock struggle, I'm gonna realize that my Hulk-sized muscles subconsciously demolished my phone.

And when that morning comes, my friends, you can reach a much happier Hulk Abi by snail mail.

Or carrier pigeon.  Those work too.