I’ve scarcely left my house since last weekend. My job responsibilities (for an online company) have increased recently and I keep accidentally working an extra hour or two each day. I honestly don’t mean to, but then I look up and instead of seeing midnight on the clock, I see the small hand approaching two.
So I shut off the computer at 1:30 a.m. or 2: 00 a.m. and fall into bed, only to be awakened before 8 a.m. by my daughter. My 11-year old son gets himself into the shower and off to school and sometimes (I am ashamed to even acknowledge this), I don’t even hear a thing. (My husband leaves the house at 6 a.m. I rarely wake up when he gets up and goes. I know. You had pictured me frying bacon and eggs while wearing an apron over my frilly bathrobe each morning, huh? Well guess what? I don’t have a frilly bathrobe. And I’m a terrible wife, definitely not Southern-bred, because I have rarely cooked my husband breakfast before work. Okay, not rarely. Never.)
I’m not a morning person.
My daughter is a lot like me. The other morning, she crawled into bed with me. She asked me to set the alarm for 18 minutes. I said okay, set my phone for 18 minutes. When the alarm rang, I said, “You need to get into the shower.” She looked at the clock and said, “One more minute. I’ll get up at 8:20.”
I have never told her that I prefer to get up on the multiples of five. I don’t like to get up at 7:58. I’ll wait until 8 on the dot. If I sleep until 8:01, I’ll have to wait until 8:05. If I miss 8:05, I’ll have to wait until 8:10. I have some rules that must be followed. This is not at all weird.
This can, however, cause some problems, like being late.
And so it did that morning with my daughter. I had to sign her in and get a tardy slip that morning. All because of the multiples of five thing that she doesn’t even know about.
So I take her to school. Before school began I had these lofty plans about walking her to school and then continuing on for a long walk so I could get in my exercise. The reality has turned out to be more like this: Throw on sweatshirt and yoga pants. Drive daughter to school. Drive home, crawl into bed, check out email and Facebook on iPhone. Doze off while listening to Regis and Kelly (after first marveling at Kelly’s perfectly toned, muscular arms). Wake up reluctantly in time to shower and fire up the computer. Begin work at noon.
This is bad for several reasons.
1) I’m not getting any exercise.
2) I’m not getting much of anything done.
3) My life is slipping away while I’m dreaming strange dreams instead of . . . doing something worthwhile and valuable and creative. Like cleaning out the storage room or sorting through my top dresser drawer (you do NOT want to know) or writing something stunning.
The problem is that I have to have sleep. And I don’t think it’s unreasonable to supplement a measly six hours a night with a morning nap before work. In fact, in some ways it’s essential because I don’t think I’d be able to work until midnight the next night without getting enough rest.
It’s a conundrum, really. I have a little bit of spare time (in the mornings) but I squander it.
I’ve also been cooking dinner each night and believe you me, that is cutting into my time between the cooking and the serving and the cleaning up afterward. That consumes my evening allotment of spare time. Buh-bye. Please take your belongings with you as you depart the plane.
How am I to write The Pretty Good American Novel if I don’t have ten minutes to rub against each other?
Well, now it’s past 1:00 a.m. So I’m going to sleep. But I wanted you all (all five of you) to know why I haven’t been writing anything pithy and amusing and thought-provoking here. Because that part of my brain is broken. And also I just don’t have the time.