No, Steve Winwood, I Don't Know What The Night Can Do

For almost the past two weeks, I have been sleeping normal hours. I think it started with the day-long visit I had last Wednesday, where I had to be at the hospital by 7 in the morning and, thus, dithered before finally decided to sleep in early. I haven't been able to stay up since.

There have been many reasons for this. The end of Daylight Saving Time has knocked my internal clock out of whack. My Grandmother's recent health issues makes me want to make sure she doesn't do anything weird when she gets up in the morning, therefore I have to be up in the morning. I have felt the need to do the same thing for my parents as well, especially My Father. Finally, having no Internet means that I have no reason to stay up late at night, and I have been able to doze off at around 1, just after the late-night talk shows, and some nights even earlier.

I don't like that feeling. No doubt My Fucking Father would love that shit. And maybe this is a sign of things to come because I'm getting old. But for the past couple mornings I have woken up at a "normal" hour, like 8:30 or 9. And I'm lying in my bed, sunrise pouring into my room, and having a whole day of things that I could do but don't have to do and, more importantly, don't want to do. Meanwhile, my anxiety over my 85-year-old Grandmother, who may not be senile but could definitely be bored as shit, prevents me from doing anything productive. What if I, say, go out and paint the shed or go catch an exhibition at an art museum or eat at Matt's and something happens? I need to make sure she's OK and the house is OK, and I can't do that if I'm passed out unconscious. So I stay up.

Still hate it, though. This Sunday I start a late-night job for the holidays. I need to make some money somehow, and the late-night hours gives me a premium over a first shift position. But I also took it because I thought of myself as a night owl. That doesn't seem true with the way I've conked out at a decent hour. And the thought of driving in the snow and ice and cold to work at 9 at night and back home past 6 is something I am starting to fear. I've always been scared of sliding off the highway, but at least in third shift jobs I go downtown, where I can take side streets and drive really, really slow. I have to take highways to get to this one, and I know one day it'll be dangerous to use them.

I don't know if I would be thinking those fears ten years ago. Maybe this is a phase, or something seasonal. But if this doesn't go away? What if this is the new normal?