The 4:30 Alarm
My husband Dan runs his own two-man electrical crew outside Denver. Every workday starts the same way — alarm at 4:30, truck loaded in the dark, and somewhere between the porch and the driveway, the search begins. Where’s the headlamp. Where’s my phone. Why is it always dead.
For almost three years I watched him back the truck in and out of the driveway with his phone flashlight clenched between his teeth, digging through the truck bed for one more tool before the sun was even up.
One morning in February he called me from the driveway, quietly furious, because he’d dropped a socket in the dark and couldn’t find it. He was fifteen minutes late to a job because of a $9 socket he couldn’t see.





