I feel like I am very boring. I get up at 5:30 am, like an old person does. I go to bed at 9:00 at night. Sometimes I am so tired I go to bed at 8:30. It’s kind of embarrassing. I wish I was the kind of person who could stay up late into the night, writing or doing art. But, sadly, I’m not. Working full time has turned me into a routine oriented grandmother. A grandmother who doesn’t even have kids.
I can’t stay up late anymore. I am lucky if I stay awake until 10:00. Forget about New Years Eve. I usually go to bed at around 10 and then Raf wakes me up at midnight to give me my New Years kiss. I don’t know if I would be capable of going out to parties to mingle and chit-chat until late in the evening. I just don’t have the energy. I am always tired.
I remember a time long ago, almost 20 year ago, when I was in town for my Grandpa Ed’s funeral. My sister was here too, and she is, or was, a night owl. She Had been living in San Diego and hadn’t seen any of us for a long time so she wanted to spend every precious minute with her siblings. We had gone out somewhere together with my brothers, to some bar in the Spokane Valley, and then decided to go to my older brother’s house afterword to visit.
I hit the wall. I needed to sleep. So I fell asleep in the backseat of the car and made them leave the car running so that I could keep the heater on (this was in the middle of winter). I laid in the back seat, wishing I could go back to my mom’s house so I could just sleep. Everyone was inside the house drinking and chatting about old times. Eventually, my brother came out to the car to turn off the engine because he didn’t want me to die from breathing car fumes. At the time I was pissed that he did this. I thought this was a ruse to get me to come inside and visit. But now I realize he was looking out for me. That’s with big brothers are for.