Getting Up at 5:30 Has Become Instinct

Even though I didn’t get out of bed until 9:30 and 10:45 yesterday and today (respectively), it seems that waking up at 5:30 has become hard-wired into my body clock.  I noticed it especially this morning.  My cell phone doubles as my alarm clock, and most weekday mornings I wake up around 5:20-5:25 and shut it off, because Steph screams bloody murder about how it wakes her up and doesn’t really get me moving that efficiently.

This morning, I woke up and the digital clock said 5:28, and I got out of bed, desperate to shut off the cell phone alarm before it went off.  I had apparently forgotten to charge the cell phone last night–it was downstairs.  But I worried for nothing.  I was halfway out of bed to look through the house for the phone–fearing that the alarm would be going off at any second–and then I remembered it was Sunday morning, and didn’t have to be up.  So I went back and was asleep by 25 ’til.  (Or, as Archie Bunker would say, "Geez, I was outta bed and halfway to the terlet ‘fore I realized I didn’t have to get up!")

None of us seriously planned to go to church this morning, so there was no bustling about in the morning.  (In my teen and young adult days, I was more conscientious about weekly church attendance, at Unitarian churches (!), than many Catholics.  During my 18 months in Boston, I was glad to see that King’s Chapel, at Tremont and School Streets, had Wednesday services at noon.  Helped when I slept in on Sunday mornings.)

Once I finally got up and had breakfast, Susie and I took Emery the dog for a long-overdue walk.  We also mailed some letters and hand-delivered some thank-you cards.  (One of the letters I mailed was one I wrote so I could christen the pack of blank note cards Steph and Susie got me for Christmas.)

Tomorrow will be my office’s first day on the 10th floor.  When I turn around in my new pod, I will have a whopping westward view, with such lovely points of interest as the BWC parking garage and the AEP (American Electric Power, or America’s Environmental Polluter) Building.  If I look a little northward, I can see Nationwide Arena’s roof.  The operations support guy began moving boxes Friday afternoon.  I moved a few myself on the two carts I have claimed for myself.  (I put my name on one of them, the other one says "NELLIE R." in black Magic Marker, so it’s now officially the Nellie R. in my frame of reference.)

The new area smelled like dead fish the last few times I’ve been up there, so I’m hoping they’ve had the air conditioners and the blowers working 24/7 all weekend.  I always dread coming into the office after three-day weekends, when they’ve had the AC down lower, but my first day in a new setting will be unsettling enough (that’s an Asperger’s thing) without having to work in an area that smells like the inside of a Dumpster.

According to The Weather Channel’s icon at the bottom of my monitor, it’s 41 degrees today.  If you go to my Twitter entries (, my moniker there is linotypist), you’ll see that yesterday I was "casually" mentioning that the temperature neared 70 most of the day.  I wore my new hoodie (a green one, a gift from Steph and Susie) and a black Carhartt jacket when Susie and I were walking the dog.  Yesterday, I went to the library in a short-sleeved shirt.

2 thoughts on “Getting Up at 5:30 Has Become Instinct

  1. about the new setting

    I was curious about what is unsettling about a new setting and how that relates to Asperger’s. Do you mind describing that a little more?


  2. Asperger’s and Sense of Place

    One Asperger’s characteristic I have is a sense of place. My ability to do a job is based on the familiarity of my surroundings; I’ll look to my left and see the picture of Susie taken last summer; I’ll look up and see the Charles Addams cartoon I hung last year. I’ll re-acclimate, but for now having to scramble to locate something, since the layout of my new pod isn’t 100% like it was, depletes mental energies. I’m even a little unsettled by not having easy access to the NELLIE R., even though she’s no different than any other cart on my floor.


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