Dearest Rachel –
You won’t believe how early it was when I first wake up. Then again, if you were still here you might not have had to believe it, since we could have been crossing paths (assuming I followed through, in my somnambulant state); you would have seen I was up, and wondered why. In fairness, I was wondering, too.
The funny part of it is, ‘Lee’ and I were joking about her new job and work schedule; evidently, it’s a 6:30-to-3:00 shift as opposed to the traditional nine-to-five. She was acknowledging that it’s a challenge to get into a routine that gets her out the door by six in order to get to work (although she tells me that her commute is surprisingly short; only about three and a half miles. That’s a third of my own commute, back in the day, and barely longer than the one to my current ‘office’ at the folks’ house. She’s very lucky, and I told her as much). I told her I would still try to send her an affirming word first thing in the morning, but I couldn’t promise perfect consistency. Honestly, to do that, I’d actually need to set an alarm to guarantee that, and I’m not sure I’m willing to do that just yet, even for a possible relationship.
At least for her, this is a good time of year to make such a switch; despite her new early start, the sun will be peeking over the horizon as she heads out her door (assuming there isn’t cloud cover, which isn’t guaranteed in the spring, but still, it’s not pitch black or anything), and by the time she starts her day, it will actually be up and the day will be lit. Granted, it’s possible that her new office doesn’t have windows such as mine did, where she can see the well-lit sky (and wish she was out there, instead of working on her figures), but at least she’ll know it’s daytime.
Not so much for me when I opened my eyes first thing this morning. While it’s true that, with windows on all sides but the one facing the laundry room, our bedroom is never completely dark the way I consider conducive to sleeping, it was as close as it gets. I wasn’t in any mental state to consider that it might have simply been just before the proverbial dawn – when it’s supposedly darkest – but a quick (if clumsy) roll over to look at my alarm clock disabused me of that notion. It read something like three-thirty, which, the way I have it set, basically meant that it was more like three-fifteen. Like I said, this would be about the time when you would realize you’d fallen asleep in the family room and bundle yourself off to bed; we would have crossed paths, especially since – now that I was up, if only barely – I promptly made my way to the washroom. I doubt we would have fought over who was to use it first, but there might have been a bit of a groggy muddle between the two of us, depending on the timing.
Now, given that I tend to lollygag around on mornings I intend to hit the gym, I could have gone ahead and done that whole routine that I do, and still make it there just as the doors were opening at four. But even wrapped as I was in my thickest terrycloth robe, it was still far too cold to be up and about; just the trip to the bathroom felt like too much at this point. Besides, with less than six hours of sleep, it just felt too early to surrender to the day, especially since it didn’t seem to be there with me, either.
It did try a second time to get my attention, as I opened my eyes to a still dark room at what turned out to be barely an hour later. A better man than I would have perhaps taken the hint and just gotten up to begin the day, but I’m no better than myself by definition; I rolled over and went back to sleep without even so much as getting up this time around. If nothing else, it still felt too soon to even text ‘Lee’ any encouraging words.
Of course, all these preliminary, premature wake-up calls were a guarantee that when I finally did wake up, it would be too late to do anything; Lee would be on her way to work, and I wouldn’t have time to put in my usual hour on the treadmill. And it almost turned out that way; the alarm clock read six-thirty when the slowly dawning light forced my eyes open for the third time this morning. Which, again, meant it was really more like six-fifteen, so I managed to catch her as she was just about to leave for work. I even admitted that I wasn’t quite ready to get up, and she gave me permission – tongue in cheek, I suspect, but it’s hard to convey a twinkle in one’s eye through just text – to stay in bed in I needed to.
To which I acknowledged that I still needed to put in a few miles on the treadmill, so while I thanked her for the sentiment, I would be joining her in the land of the living soon enough. And while I didn’t feel like I had the time to do an entire hour’s worth of walking, I am going to be meeting Lars later today, so it’s not like I’m cutting my exercise time short at all; on the contrary, it’s rare that I go to work out on days like this, but I thought I might try to get back under two-ten like I did yesterday (oh, did I not tell you about that? Well, it’s not like I broke my record or anything, so I probably didn’t think it was worth bothering about). Today, however, I got to the line, but that was about it. Maybe if I’d put in the full hour, but I was running short on time as it was, and I still needed to put this letter together for you before I head out (among other things).
And with that being said, I’ll let you go for now. Keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 