Other than lack of sleep, I'm not sure what came over me yesterday, but I was lost in the ozone for most of the day. Actually, I doubt that it was anything other than lack of sleep, but I made up for it last night. Or rather, this morning. I did get to bed earlier than usual, mostly because I couldn't hold my head up or keep my eyes open any longer. And then — here's the key to successful sleeping — I managed to fall asleep almost as soon as I, as they say, hit the pillow. So sleeping through the alarm was just gravy, or icing on the cake, but please, don't mix the two.
It's not really an alarm in the strict traditional sense. It's more of a gentle nudging from the local smooth jazz station (KJZY, Sebastopol). I set it to go on about a half hour before I plan to get up, and then I get up about 45 minutes later, rush around to try to be ready on time, and remember that I work at home, alone, and no one is going to see me in my pajamas (or whatever you think I wear to bed).
Two things make it impossible for me to stay in bed even longer, and it's probably good they exist to keep me from lazing the whole day away. First, if I don't get the Chronicle out of the driveway by 8:30, someone could drive over it. This has only happened once, but that one time has made me skittish.
Can't start the day without my paper. Box scores. Jon Carroll. The Boondocks. Obituaries (Did you know that Jerome Richardson, who played the first recorded modern jazz flute solo, on "Kingfish" with the Lionel Hampton band, died last week?). Oh, and then there's the news, such as it is. (Where am I going to get my Marisleysis fix now that Elián has gone home?)
The other reason I have to get up in the morning instead of following my instincts and sleeping the day away is that the phone could start ringing any time after 8:00, and I really should answer it. I wouldn't hear it if I didn't get up, because I turn the ringer off and the answering machine volume down every night. That prevents me from being awakened at 4:17 in the morning by people dialing my number, even though they're looking for someone else.
I repeat, for the benefit of those ham-handed individuals, that I am neither the Icee Company, nor National General Insurance, nor the ADD hotline. I care, of course, if your Icee machine is broken, or you've been denied coverage, your child is having problems in school. But my expertise in these areas is as limited as your ability to correctly operate a touch-tone phone keypad. |