This morning, barely awake, the alarm penetrating the foam of my lousy drugstore earplugs for the fourth or fifth time, I had this conversation with myself:
"What time is it?"
Open one eye, squint at clock.
"It's not a tragedy yet."
Huh. For me, "it's not a tragedy yet" is a legitimate answer to "what time is it?" This is a thing I had not fully articulated before today. It made me realize that I employ a whole different time vocabulary from night to morning on weekdays:
Past my bedtime (when I usually go to bed.)
Insomnia (This spans many hours for which I am, thankfully, usually asleep, though not always.)
What the f*ck is going on with the neighbors (an hour or more before my own alarm goes off.)
Not a tragedy yet (from the first to, say, sixth time my alarm goes off.)
Tragedy (when I actually get up.)
I'm not saying it's a great system, and I can't really recommend it, but there it is.
Oooh. Bonus. Breaking news.
NARROWLY AVERTED DIASTER
Just this second I realized that there is a glue stick on my desk at work in the same approximate position that there is a chap stick on my desk at home. While I am sorry to deny you the almost certain slapstick results, I am putting the glue stick in a drawer. Right. Now.
May your Friday be tragedy-free.