I don’t know about you but daylight saving time always throws me for a loop. As you already know, I’m a night owl. I don’t do mornings well but I’m sorta forced to by my animal menagerie. They see to it I don’t reach the recommended 8 hours of sleep per night. In fact, they are quite adept at it.
I ask you, does any woman over age 60 get 8 hours of sleep? If so, I have yet to meet her. And if I ever do, I’m pretty sure I’d hate her. Wait, hate is too strong. Let’s say dislike immensely. But that’s only because I’d envy her. Then I’d dislike her because I envy her. Confused? Me too…
Now don’t get me wrong; I was unaware of the time change last Sunday. Can you believe it? (That was rhetorical.) Only caught my mistake when I glanced at my phone early that morning. Talk about being oblivious…
I normally head to bed between midnight and 2 a.m., sometimes later if I’m on a roll writing or streaming something intriguing on Netflix. (If you haven’t seen Dead to Me or Big Little Lies, you must!) Anyway, a week ago Saturday was one of my later evenings. Then as usual, my mutts woke me for their nightly backyard pee. Never mind they’d already gone before we retired.
Needless to say, when the clock read 6:30, it was still 5:30 to me. But did they care? That’s a negative. So I traipsed downstairs and while they did their business, I nearly fell asleep after laying my head on the dining room table.
On the journey back upstairs, I told them I intended to stay in bed until 9:00, actually 8:00 to my brain and body. But we don’t always get what we wish for, do we? Here’s what happened last week while I unsuccessfully tried to adjust to the time change…
Fat Jack, being the food-oriented fellow he is, only seeks my attention when he’s famished — so virtually every morning. He always plops down on my chest, his nose inches from mine. I awake thinking I’m having a heart attack but it’s just Jack crushing me. So I say, “No Jack, it’s not time to get up yet.” But does he listen? I think not.
I know I’m in trouble when I hear Callie rise and shake her head, flapping her ears back and forth. That’s her signal she’s ready to begin the day and wants me out of bed pronto, never mind if the sun has yet to rise.
So Skip, seeing Callie’s awake, turns to look at me while I attempt to ignore Callie. His expression says, “Hey, what’s the story here? Why are you still prone?” But I close my eyes and roll over.
Then Wally wakes up. He watches me as I feign sleep while peeking through half-closed eyes. Frankly I’m astounded my pets don’t realize how early it is.
Taffy, constantly my sidekick, flips onto her back and starts moaning to let me know she’s ready for her morning belly scratch. But I pretend I don’t see nor hear her, which obviously annoys her.
Even Oliver, the old man, is awake now and shooting me the evil eye to rise and shine while Dash joins in, evidently not happy with me either. On this particular morning they are not fans of mine.
When I realize I’m surrounded by 7 of my 10 pets, I wave the proverbial white flag, finally admitting defeat. So after 5 hours of shut-eye, I’m up and at ‘em, not so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed but out of bed nonetheless (an hour before I’d hoped).
Unfortunately, I’m still not in the swing of things time-wise. But sadly, my pets have adapted quite nicely.