A mumbled something that sounds like bricks or sick or i like to listen to Styx.
"What time do you have to leave?"
"If I had to leave at five-forty, I would wake up at five."
Ahdon waykup n' shtrt rummim.
Ah kann jesh waykup ang moof.
"I can't hear you."
"Well, I guess I just think sleep is more important."
Funny thing about the importance of sleep is that the really important part must happen in the morning before we wake up. People guard this half an hour jealously. The two or three hours we should have been in bed the night before but were watching teevee, doing laundry, chasing kids down, staring at computers or picking our nose are apparently optional.
It was an accidental typing class, taken to fill out requirements for graduation, where i discovered my love of the typeset word. Sure, i'd written before but there were two problems with longhand: 1. i write slow, thought outstrips deed to the point that i'm writing the beginning of thought one and the end of thought two down in the same babbling sentence. Sort of like...
It was an accidental problem with long hand: write slow babblung shetensh (dammit! scribble, scribble)
And 2. when i write longhand, my artistic side wants to make the letters pretty and illuminate the borders and illustrate the thought and pretty soon the writing is a second class citizen in its own country.
But typing, typing keeps up. There is no prettiness outside of an illegible font and my mind is constrained to make it's pictures with words. Since that discovery, and the addition of computers, email and blogs, i have sought out writing time. Waking up earlier and earlier, strip mining sleep mountains for quiet time to focus. And four-thirty used to do it.
Then the world caught up or on, i'm not sure which. It's like someone was watching and realized that i was up and said, "well, sheeeooot. If that boy's got so much energy he should be here at work building my dreams and not wasting time on his! Yoder! Move the start time up to six." "Yes, boss."
Which reminds me. It's now five oh five, i gotta go.
Three thirty is gonna suk.