I pulled myself out of bed this morning a couple of minutes after 6 am, which is WELL before my usual rise time. Squinting my myself in the bathroom mirror, I had a hard time identifying my features, so wrinkled was my face from the pillow and the lack of sleep.
I was at work before 7 am, setting up the registration table for our annual summer retreat and greeting people as they walked in. Work did not end until just before 5 pm, and I was ready to drop. The two large cups of coffee I had poured into my body had long since lost their effectiveness, and I was having trouble typing. I went home on the trolley, instead of taking my usual walk, because the sooner I got to my apartment, the sooner I could go to bed.
Knowing that my alarm clock wouldn’t be effective to wake me from the depth of sleep for which I was headed, right before the nap, I sent Scott a text message, asking him to call me at 6 pm, so that I would wake up in time to pick him up for the Ray LaMontagne/Guster concert we were going to tonight. Two minutes later, I was gone.
When the phone rang at 6 pm, I was so deeply asleep that I had completely forgotten where I was, who I was, what a phone was, how you answered it, or even which way was up. I managed to open it and heard Scott’s voice vaguely in the distance, but I couldn’t find a way to talk back. Finally I remembered where the off button was and hung up on him. It was the only thing I could manage. Several minutes later, I pulled myself together and called him back, in order to confirm that I was in fact awake, and had not been captured phone call garbling aliens.
Later, when fully alert, I asked him about how I had sounded on the wake up call. His only comment was that it had certainly been an interesting. Somehow, the way he said it didn’t make it sound like a good thing. Oh well.