I got my usual call from my crazy mama this morning on the way into work.
“I just got back from a blind date that lasted four days!”
“Must have been a good one.”
“He was a real gentleman.” She said with some disappointment in her voice. (For some reason I felt like quoting Steel Magnolias “I bet he takes the dishes outta the sink ‘fore he pees in it.”, but I didn’t)
“Well that’s great.”
“His name is Al. Short for Alan. And he kinda looks like Alan Jackson.” I have some vague knowledge that she is speaking about a country singer, but without Google, I could not get a visual.
“Sounds very handsome.”
“Well, I just wanted to call and say hi. I’m gonna eat my cereal and go back to bed. This time change has me all screwed up.” Yeah, couldn’t be because you were on a four-day long date. And, how exactly, does the time change have her screwed up? I generally have a few days after a daylight savings switch in which I wake up earlier than I want, or don’t feel sleepy when the clock says I should. But this would not be a factor if I didn’t HAVE to be up at a certain hour–a concept she has never known.
“I got my days and my nights all screwed up cause of it!” Really? Cause we are talking about AN HOUR change that happened two weeks ago. Besides, when you don’t have a job, children, or any responsibilities at all, does it really matter if you sleep an hour later? This whole concept confuses me.