Recommended wine for today’s entry: I just this minute opened a bottle of a new chardonnay to try … 3 Blind Moose, from California. And I (hold on a minute, sipping …) I like it! I know, it sounds like the old Life cereal commercial with Mikey. Well, Mikey likes it. It’s quite inexpensive and maybe a bit lighter than my usual winter chardonnay. I generally move toward either a buttery or an oaky chardonnay in the cold months. But it’s been pretty warm here, so this will do fine. As the label says, “apple, citrus and subtle oak.” Cute label, too.
Is anyone else out of whack since Daylight Savings Time started or ended or whatever the hell just happened when one day it was light out ’til like 8:00 and the next day it got dark at 5:30?
My dogs have turned into idiots, because they’re apparently not sure when they’re supposed to start their incessant nagging for their dinners. The black Lab starts that high-pitched whine that I actually think she is able to throw, because it sounds like it’s coming from an empty leather chair across the room, but when I make eye contact with her, she gives a hopeful wag, then, seeing that I’m really pissed off, she averts her eyes and it stops.
That’s how I spend 5:30 to 6:00 nowadays.
After that, because I’m trying to keep them on their 7:00 feeding schedule, I start pretending to feed them and then getting something else from the pantry. It’s actually become quite a sport and they fall for it every time. Also, I’m having a lot of tasty little appetizers before my own dinner.
I do that for awhile, because if I’m not messing with the minds of two dogs, I find that I REALLY either want to start cocktail hour or … and, believe it or not, this urge is stronger … put on my jammies and go to bed.
I think it’s called one’s circadian rhythms and if I have it, it’s the only kind of rhythm I do have. If only I had it when I was in the sorority and couldn’t clap to the beat of the songs, I wouldn’t have had to be Toto in the stupid rush skit. But that’s beside the point.
You’ll like this: I just went to ask.reference.com and entered circadian rhythm, because I know how many of you look to my blog as a source for information and scientific learning, so I wanted to validate my theory … and there’s a link to some guy’s blog that says this: August is always such a crap month in my life. August and January never fail to be the lowest They are my mild depression days when I come as close to hating myself as I ever do and everything absolutely infuriates me without reason so that I walk around all the time with my teeth clenched. … On an equally positive note… Oh, my! It even has a cuss word in the title.
Just to be clear … I am not as messed up by the early darkness as this gentleman apparently is.
But the truth is, since we changed the clocks, I just want to sleep.
Or drink. And so, in an effort to be productive and not take to my bed, I think I’ve decided to just give in to my body and start chugging at 5 o’clock. My mom has cocktail hour at 5 and she’s doing great. She can be out on a boat in the middle of the lake without her watch and with no view of the sun, and she can tell you when it’s 5 o’clock dead up.
Sometimes, after a power outage, when I need to reset my clocks, I call her and wait to hear the sound of her icemaker spitting ice into her bourbon and water. There we go, 5 o’clock, thank you very much, ma’am.
Granted, she goes to bed at like 9:30, because if she drank from 5 to midnight, she’d be sorority material herself. But when it’s this dark … and there’s not a good college hoops game on TV, I could go to bed at 9:30.
There’s like nothing else on TV that I like. Wait, I take that back. I like Glee a lot. That woman that coaches the Cheerios is hysterical. I like her … directness. And I like Wheels and the poor pregnant cheerleader who totally needs to tell that mean bonehead with the mohawk that he’s the father and let the poor guy who really wants to be a Glee clubber and not a football player off the hook. So OK, I do like that show.
But otherwise, no TV will keep me awake. Well, I like Cougartown, but only to get fashion tips from Courtney Cox. I am thinking that if I grow my hair out and get a Wonder Bra (do they make those in AA?) and lift weights for about seven hours a day, I could be like Courtney Cox and be a cougar, too.
Wait. I just went by a mirror and that’s out. Now I don’t want to watch that show anymore because it totally depresses me, making me want to take to my bed.
I have no problem sleeping for 9, 10, even 11 hours at a time. And it works out OK, except no one told the decrepit cross-eyed cat who can neither see, hear nor think anymore, about the time change. She wakes up as soon as the sun comes up, or at least as far as she knows it’s up, and she stands mere centimeters from my face until my intuition tells me there’s either a murderer or an almost-dead cat invading my room.
So if I ask the vet to drug her, I’ll be able to follow my new winter routine. It’s going to require some conditioning before I start — liver exercises and such, so that I don’t pull anything. But I think come January, when it’s cold and yucky and dark outside, you’ll be wanting to follow my lead.
I can DVR American Idol and cut right to the chase the next morning. You can watch the worthwhile parts of that show in 13 minutes.
Alright, it’s decided. Cocktails at 5, sandwich at 7, drug the cat at 9, bed at 9:30. Until they fix whatever they did to my circadian rhythm.