Four

As I write this it is four o’clock on a Saturday morning.

I wish I could say that I’d been up all night doing something fabulous (clubbing? stargazing? fisting?), but the sad fact is that I slept a solid eight hours before springing from bed fully refreshed at the aforementioned time. In case the math escapes you, let me be painfully clear: Bedtime on Friday night arrived at 8pm. If this had happened once or even once in a blue moon I’d think nothing of it, but for the past week my internal clock has undergone a bizarre and troubling transformation. Before I was still going strong at midnight, then dragging myself with the greatest reluctance from bed once the children got up. To have such a rapid shift suggests some sort of malignant paranormal influence, such as ghosts, vampires, or the religious right.

Not that waking so obscenely early is bad. I’ve discovered how wondrously productive I can be when the sky is dark, the energy is high and the children still snooze. Nothing moves, beeps or rings. Set low for the night, the heat rarely kicks on. The fridge, unopened for hours, has no reason to hum. No one’s emailing or IMing, and if I’m Twittering, I’m doing it alone. In short, I can Get Things Done.

However, the predicament raises some interesting questions (What prompted this radical circadian shift? Should I endeavor to change it?) as well as queries on the practical side of things:  How will I manage to stay awake long enough to supervise the child’s slumber party taking place here tonight? Would it be wrong to warn them not to set anything afire then fall asleep at my usual time?

And perhaps most importantly, if my partner is only able to meet in the later evening hours, will I ever get to have sex with him again? Is he going to get tired of his somnolent girlfriend and look for someone just a shade more nocturnal? Must I avail myself to the services of the paper carrier? Or the milkman?

I’m not sure whether to love or hate this new development, so until I find someone to fix my broken internal clock, I’m just going to embrace the quiet and calm of these ungodly morning hours.

And maybe I’ll learn to love coffee.

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