Kevin had another call this morning. This wasn't a particularly welcome development. Not only did it wake me up, but he's in a course this weekend, so the alarm was already set for 5:30 am.
The call came in much earlier. Second middle of the night call this week. This time, car accident. Wee hours of Monday morning, fire. For living in the middle of the sticks there sure is a lot that happens out here.
I got up, as I often do. Read my email. Puttered around online in that groggy half awake state. Posted some stuff that was likely incoherent.
Grumbled at Russel (he knows why). (He also knows I'm not serious.) (I guess I could have meant the cat...)
I'm not a morning person, not by nature. I've always been a night owl, even since I was a little kid. I remember the grade 3 field trip to Toronto and Debbie Harrington's mom glaring at me as I lay wide-eyed in bed, well past the time the other girls had gone to sleep. And it's sooooo easy for me to switch back into night owl mentality.
But I can't. Because I have a spouse who sets the alarm for 4:30 or 5 am all the time and if I stay up late it isn't as simple as sleeping in. I will be woken up. And I'm worse off if I go back to sleep, as I did today.
I really need there to be light when I get up and this new DST time change is totally messing with me.
Now I have to sum up a novel in 125 words.
I think it's time to see if there's any alcohol in the house.