A Sleepy Woman's Guide to Being an Eccentric Old Lady

A Sleepy Woman’s Guide to Being an Eccentric Old Lady

After being inspired last night by the Beloved Writers’ Group, I was eager to jump up this morning to start on my assignment.  

But I never jump up and do anything.  I mosey up; I saunter up; I meander up; I slither up.  

I’ve never been an early morning person.  Never. Not ever. Ever. Not even close. 

 Growing up, my older sister and I were upstairs and my younger sister and parents were downstairs.  So while my mom was making breakfast, she’d turn the radio on our intercom. 

I felt like she was blaring music at me like prisoners of war talk about.   But she told me that the instrumental version of “Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head”, does not institute torture.  

Somewhere around first grade, I remember just lying at the bottom of my closet looking up at my clothes.  I knew I needed to pick something, put it on and go down to breakfast before school.   I stared up at my perfectly coordinated outfits and thinking, “I just cannot do this every day of my life.”

The pattern continues until this day.  

In high school, we could choose to go to school from 8-3 or 9-4.  I barely made it by nine am.

In college I started my classes at 11 am and while others were finished for the day, I was just getting up.  

After I was married and working at my first job, I would just lie down in front of my closet and repeat the line that I couldn’t do this the rest of my life. 

Then came kids and they needed to get up and go to school.  This was not optional and could be punished by law if they didn’t go.  So at an early age, I told them that I needed to learn independence.

I bought them an alarm clock, taught them to set it and they would have to get themselves up. 

 Once they were dressed, they could wake me up so I could put cereal in a baggie and take them to school.  

I invented “breakfast to go”, but I’m not a good marketer so I didn’t do anything with my invention. 

Just to be clear, I’m not an alcoholic or anything like that.  I like to stay up late and sleep late.  

I used to be embarrassed about it, but now, at almost 58, I’m so close to being an eccentric old woman that I don’t even care. 

 This is me and this is what I do.  

One would think that I could never hold down a job with my waking late cycle.  I have 3 part-time jobs, and if you count playing with grandkids and writing, I have five.  All of them start after I wake up.  

I have panic attacks when I have an 8 am doctor’s appointment.  I set three alarms on my phone to wake me up.  They ring in 10 minute increments. 

 After I slap the Kleenex box, my face cream and the jar of Tums by my bed, I finally hit the snooze button while inadvertently deleting all Facebook messages.   Then Lance, my husband, comes in and tells me that I have exactly twenty minutes to get to my doctor’s appointment. 

Perfect, I think.  I can throw on some yoga pants, a tunic, a pair of dangly earrings, run my fingers through my hair, and brush on a hint of mascara and lipstick.  I get to the doctor’s parking lot, run in, sign in with whatever time I was supposed to be there and make it perfectly fine. 

Eccentric old lady…I embrace it...but not until 11 am.