Early Bird Gets the Worm

"The early bird gets the worm" or at least that's what I've been told all my life but I think this morning was pushing things a bit. 

At 4 am in the morning on Tuesday I was doing what most peoples do. The insides of my eyelids were getting a thorough inspection. 

While I was enjoying my very own oneness with the universe, I heard a mind piercing chirp. It was either the loudest bird I've ever heard or it might have been the loudest, highest-pitched gunfire anywhere in the known universe. That little chirp at oh dark thirty had me perched upright in about 0.00001seconds flat.  

It turns out the battery in the fire alarm had just gone out of commission and the alarm was warning me that it might be time for a new one. Note to the manufacturer: Please use a nice soothing Siri or Alexa type voice or better yet HAL from 2001 A Space Odyssey.  "Scott, your alarm needs a new battery."  I can hear it now.  

As it happens that little helpful chirp had enough adrenaline pumping through my veins to lift a 2-ton truck off a mother and child and do a great impression of Usain Bolt in the 100 meters.  Okay, hyperbole for sure, but how the heck does a body recover from that. Even the sun has more sense than to get up that early.

I was dog tired but sleep wasn't ready to do me any favors. 

I guess I should be grateful that I live indoors and it wasn't a copperhead getting cozy or a coyote nuzzling my cheek. That's probably a good thing so I'll put it in the win column. 

It wasn't too much of a problem because I get up pretty early anyway but the question remains ... Why do these things always happen in the middle of the night? 

I've found most really bad news comes in the middle of the night (Yes, I consider 4 am the middle of the night). 

Nobody wakes you up at 4 am to tell you they've won the lottery and they're giving you half cause you are a fabulous human.  I have, however, had several lawyers and bankers from other countries tell me I've inherited millions of dollars or they want me to distribute their millions because they are so concerned with getting the money out of their country. I am apparently their last resort. And all this because I'm divine and saintly. 

But even they don't call! They just send me endless emails promising me "riches beyond the dreams of avarice".  Isn't avarice one of those seven deadly sins? 

That's why, when I go to bed, my phone goes into airplane mode. 

As if to pile insult right smack on top of injury, at 7 am (still not a civilized time for noise) the gardening crew showed up next door with their gas-powered hedge trimmers, gas-powered leaf blowers, gas-powered chainsaws, and the accompanying gas-powered megaphones attached to brainless human gas-bags yelling orders at each other. 

I try to be tolerant. I really do. So I don't say anything. You have to pick your battles well in this life. 

I understand it gets hot here in the middle of the day. I understand they want to get going early so they can get home early to their beers, burgers and bourbon whiskey. I know all that. So I go with the flow.

I'm just glad this doesn't happen every day. Most days I can ease my way into the day with thoughtful, quiet expectation and exuberance. 

I think I'll work toward that.

Until next week - I wish you peace. 

---