A Stitch In Time

I failed to make it to work by 4am this morning.

It was my own fault, really. I was chatting to Krissa as she cooked her evening meal at around 9pm, you know, not too late, about this that and the other, when I realised that I wouldn't get all that much sleep in before having to go to work.

It's an odd schedule, but I can function on it. The sun rises at 1am, and sets at about 3.30pm. Everyone else gets into the office easily by 4am, some even well beforehand. But it narks me that people feel that they can call round that early in the morning. I mean - the postman?

3.25am.

Obscene. What kind of service is that? If I wasn't working the old 4-1 daily grind, that would be pretty out of order.

My parents aren't on the same daily routine as me. They get annoyed if I call them much after 5pm, because they're in bed. That worries me. I mean, that's pretty early to call an end to the day, isn't it?

The shops round here are amazing. They close early in the afternoon, fair enough, and I can understand that people might get annoyed about not being able to shop after lunchtime, but the provision for early birds like me? It's incredible. There should be some kind of community award.

No one else seems to notice that I live this way. It's just better, for me, to know that my rhythms are very much in tune with the person who means the most to me. It's just...gnarly...when your heart runs on New York time, but the diurnal cycle round these parts doesn't take any notice.