Unholy Hours

I got up today at 7:30. AM.

I did this because a friend whom I love like a brother needed a ride at the airport, and as I type, I’m waiting for him to call to say “Come get me.” I have already braved the post-dawn world for coffee (naturally I’m out here at home) and now I wait, as motive force slowly drains from my body, transforming me back into the gelatinous sludge of sleep.

Funny thing is, I used to have a job where I got up at 5 every morning. I used to remember that sort’ve crisp grey dawn feeling, when the air is all brittle and sharp and the grass crunches under your feet and you sit in an icy car while it shudders and mutters and decides whether or not it wants to run, while your breath steams up the inside windows and you silently wonder why the hell you went into anthropology and art, what were you thinking, why didn’t you go into mortuary science which at least always has job security and is about as un-urgent a profession as exists. Then the car grumbles into life, the heater makes that hot, burned-dust smell, and NPR tells you things about politics that would be really alarming if you were awake enough to care, while the sun slowly rises in the rear view mirror.

Yep, those were the days.

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