I was out on the back deck a moment ago. It’s quiet and cool tonight – in the mid-50s. Overhead, the sky is ablaze with stars, made all the brighter by the dry air. It’s the perfect night.
I love the night. I thrive at night. I know it’s unusual.
I try to go to bed early – really. It just never happens. There’s always a reason to stay up a little later. This time of year the sky is already brightening and the birds chirping when I go to sleep, usually close to 5:00 AM.
I do my best work at night. It’s when I studied my Mississippi State courses. It’s when I write most blog entries. It’s when I power watch TV. I never play my MythTV DVR during the day.
I am limited in the noise I can make. My office is next to the bedroom. Helaine is asleep long before I get home. Every once-in-a-while I’ll make too much noise and wake her. That’s a problem.
Stef is up late, but not this late. Last night we were talking and she finally begged off around 2:00 AM. She cited the time as she kicked me out. And I thought, “that’s not too late.”
I have the world to myself late a night. Until the newspapers are delivered, few cars pass down our streetlight free road. Often I hear animals passing through the yard. We’ve got your typical crew of suburban critters: deer, rabbits, moles, chipmunks, field mice, foxes, even the occasional wild turkey. There have been reports of bears in my neighborhood this spring. Oh my.
When Stef was a little girl, she called me to the driveway where she said a bird was in distress. Sure enough, when I got there the bird was flailing around. After a few moments I realized Steffie had caught the bird coupled with another bird in “flagrante delicto.” When she reads this, she will know the truth for the first time.
Last week, right outside my 2nd floor window, a cat began to scream out as if he was in the fight of his life. Maybe he was?
My friend Farrell and I had our best conversations this time of day, back when he was in Singapore. We’d get on IM and chat. When we were done, I’d be going to sleep at about the same time he was leaving work! Back home in Palm Springs, three hours behind Connecticut, there are fewer common hours for contact between us.
A few times a year, I hit the 24-hour Stop and Shop grocery store on the way home. The all night crew is just starting and there are often roadblocks as still packed boxes sit in the middle of the aisle. Bad time for meat buying. Good time for last minute birthday and other cards. In-and-out in just a few minutes.
Helaine knows. I’m not divulging a secret.
TV sucks this time of day. There are too few of us to ‘waste’ any decent programming. Often, I can click through the cable universe passing infomercial-after-infomercial-after-infomercial without any real programs. I’m not cheery enough to host an infomercial. It’s an art.
I’m not a night evangelist. It’s best for me if you don’t share my hours. The night is best left alone.