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Apr. 6th, 2011

A little over a month ago, many of us were setting our clocks an hour ahead for daylight savings time. Usually I don't gripe about this too much. There are unfortunate side-effects, like losing an hour of sleep; yet regardless, it needs to be done. No use complaining, right?

This year is different. Our new bedroom has two windows facing east, which means it's suddenly getting very bright very early. This is all well and good (or at least tolerable) on the weekends, when pulling the covers over my head and going back to sleep is an option. Not so on weekdays. Monday through Friday the light creeps into the room around 6 am, travels unnoticed across the bed, and like an obnoxious three-year-old pokes me right in the eye: BANG! WAKE UP, LADY. (This is what the light would say if it had a voice.) No one sleeps through a poke in the eye. No one. So I inevitably wake up when this happens. I blink. I rub at my face. I yawn, stare at the ceiling, and think, "Ok, so it's not dark in here anymore. Not even a little bit. Not even remotely. And well, I guess . . . I guess that's alright. I guess I can handle that."

At which point The Bird starts chirping.

Now, I'm not sure this is the same bird every morning (it is). It could very well be a different one each day (nope). Stranger things have happened (yeah, right). But I swear to god, this bird is my sworn enemy. It may as well have murdered my entire family and everyone I've ever loved and then made a little bird suit out of their skin. THIS IS HOW MUCH I HATE IT. And it sucks, because this little bird is so happy to be singing. Its tone is giddily, over-the-moon, I-just-won-the-lottery ecstatic. I almost feel bad for getting upset. Almost. Then I remember I have thirty minutes left before I have to get out of bed, and this bird is stealing these precious minutes from me, and I hate it all over again, only a gazillion times more.

There are probably solutions to the sun problem. Hugh would chime in and say, "Put the duvetyne back on the windows!" (No. Full stop.) Honestly, though? I think I could deal with the light if it wasn't for the bird. And what are my options for getting rid of that? Pea-shooter? Crafty cat? Nails on every square inch of every tree outside the building? I guess I'll have to deal with it until the time changes again. That could make for a very long spring. But hey, if that's my biggest problem this year, I'll take it. Just don't be surprised if the next time you see me, I'm wearing a chain of feathers around my neck.

Comments

shoebob
Apr. 7th, 2011 01:08 pm (UTC)
At my old apartment, there was a lovely big tree on the lawn outside my window, and lots of little twittery happy birds who would jabber with each other (and who also made a nest in the eaves above my balcony, and a huge mess on my balcony) -- but the worst was the crow. This time of year the crow would come early in the morning and caw, caw, caw, caw incessantly. I definitely do not miss that crow.

Birds aside, I noticed a HUGE difference in my ability to sleep in when I put up curtains. They're just cheap things from Target, and one day I want to make nicer, thicker ones, but they do help enormously.