Siddity in the City

Listen, I’m not a morning person. If we’ve ever had more than ten minutes of conversation, you’ve probably guessed this.

I am not a morning person.

My body’s natural day runs from about 11 am-2 am. I am not ashamed of this. This is a fact. There is no value attached to this statement, no judgement of operating hours as broadly inferior or superior. I do not, unlike many morning people, try to woo others to my way of living. I may wish for it, I may think you’re nuts to want to wake up at, oh, 6:30 am on a Sunday, but you will never hear me saying to a morning person anything along the lines of, “Oh, what’s wrong with you? It is so much nicer to attack your goals at dusk!” Do you know why? Because I respect that perhaps such people operate on a different body clock, and I assume they know far better than I what works for them.

I. Am. Not. Amorningperson. I have never, ever been a morning person. Ever. I was not a morning infant, prone to rousing my mother with wails at 4 am, unless I was ill. I slept soundly, even then, until 8 in the morning. At least, that is what I have been told.

Are we clear on this? I am not a morning person. You’ve gathered this now, right? After reading the last few paragraphs in what, two, three minutes?

Great. So, can someone please explain to me why the following occurred at 6:30 this morning?

Salient facts:
1. I am not a morning person.
2. Chicago is on Central time. My parents are on Eastern.
3. My mother, being my mother, has known me all 29.75 years of my life, and therefore cannot possibly not know that I am not a morning person.
4. As such, she also knows that you cannot, cannot, CANNOT have a conversation with me immediately if I haven’t awakened naturally, because even though my eyes are open, I am not actually, truly awake for another 2-3 hours.
5. I live in a major city and prefer public transport.

Panjabi MC blares from cell phone. Sid awakens in a panic, heart thudding arrhythmically in her chest. Caller ID indicates it’s a family call. Having recently lost an uncle to cancer and having a father who’d had a stroke a few months before, she is now alarmed and disoriented.

Sid: Hullo? Huh?
MamaSid: Hey hon. Oh, what’s wrong? You sound funny.
Sid: *unintelligible grumbling* 6:30!
MamaSid: Oh, sorry, I forgot about that. Listen, your aunt is selling her car. You want to buy it?
Sid: Wait–what?
MamaSid: She’s selling her car, she says she thinks it needs about $1000 of work, but she’ll sell it for $1500. You can pay her in parts.
Sid, trying to recall when she ever gave anyone in her family any indication she was in the market for a used car. A used car in Philly. : Whuuuut? Huh?
MamaSid: Because if you don’t want it, I’m gonna get it for your brother, for next year.
Sid: Huh?
MamaSid: Do you want it?
Sid: Huh? Can I think about it?
MamaSid: Okay, call me before the end of the day.
Sid, now confused, tired, and borderline-weepy because she knows she will not be able to fall asleep again: Ungh…*unintelligible grumbling* Loveyoubye.

I swear, I think my mother sometimes just likes to fuck with me. I didn’t call her this weekend, and she’s getting me back. Because, really? This is an “end of the day” decision? You called me at 6:30 in the morning to ask me something you didn’t need to know until THE END OF THE DAY? Andandand, it’s not even like the damned thing is leaving the family, inaccessible forevermore, because the alternative is that you are going to buy it? *weeping again*

So, yeah. My mother called me at the asscrack of dawn, shorting me 45 minutes of good, much needed sleep, to try to sell me a used car. Sigh.

Beloved family, friends, and Intarnetular associates:

DO NOT CALL ME before 10 am, on any day of the week, unless someone near and dear to my heart* is in ongoing** physical danger, or dead.

Okay? In danger, or DEAD.

Recap:

1. Chicago: an hour behind New York/Boston/Philly.
2. Me? Notsomuch loving the mornings.
3. Do not call me, for any reason, under any circumstance, before 10 am (YOUR TIME, wherever you are, unless you are in Europe in which case I think 2 pm your time onward is okay)
4. Do not call me, for any reason, under any circumstance, before 10 am.
5. Do not call me, for any reason, under any circumstance, before 10 am.
6. Do not call me, for any reason, under any circumstance, before 10 am.
7. DO NOT CALL ME, FOR ANY REASON, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, BEFORE 10 AM.
8. Unless there is big money, amazing sex, a great meal, or some combination of the above on your end of the line. And if there isn’t, and you call me anyway, be prepared to put out one of the three as atonement for your transgression.

Because you know why? I am possibly sleeping, quite happily. Even if I am awake, I am probably fighting to pull myself together long enough to get dressed, pack my crap, and get out the door with everything I will need for the day. Do I call you early in the mornings? No. No I do not. Because I am either sleeping, or assume at that crucial time of day, you have other shit to do.

Okies? Great. Thx. Loveyoubyeeeeee!

*Here, please to employ the first name rule: If you cannot simply say “Bob is dead!” and have me fully comprehend the gravity/tragedy of the situation, put the phone down. If you have to say, “You remember your uncle’s friend Bob?” or “Oh my god, Bob Bobbarob was in an accident!” hang it up. Because I guarantee, I do not care nearly as much you think I should, and I have a really hard time faking it when I’m groggy.

** Here, please to understand that by “ongoing,” I mean “has recently entered a state of danger or harm from which they have yet to emerge, and you hope/believe I am in some position to do something about it. If your neighbor’s darling grandchild fell off her bike and broke her arm, but she’s already been to hospital, had it set, and is now enjoying a pack of watermelon Now and Laters? Call somebody else. Email me. In my mind, this does not warrant a call at any time of the day or night. Sorry. I probably don’t care, and you won’t have to listen to me pretend to care if you send it via email. Whatever horrified reaction you imagine I will have is undoubtedly better than the real thing.