Monday, December 20, 2010

Early to bed

“Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
Benjamin Franklin

I have to confess I do not like rising early. In fact, working two jobs, I usually am getting to bed when all of you early risers are rising. When my wife and I have an activity planned for the day, she will often ask, “What time are you getting up tomorrow?” To which I gleefully reply, “Oh, about the crack of noon.”

I do admire those who can wake up at the crack of dawn, perhaps it is years of hearing both the esteemed Mr Franklin quote, or perhaps it is years of hearing my mother say, “If you don’t go to bed early, you will never wake up in the morning.” That has caused me to feel great guilt over my late morning somnolence. Then of course when I can go to bed early, I am just not tired.

Therefore, to be sure I am none of the three things Mr. Franklin postulated a person would be if they went to bed and then got up early, I have just endured my third encounter with the Blue Coated Gang. For those who are not familiar with this particular gang, their modus operandi is to entice you to some fancy place, with promises of great hospital-ity, then one of their members proceeds to render you unconscious, while the aforementioned promiser attacks you with a very sharp knife. When the entire ordeal is over they have the gall to submit a bill to your insurance company for the attack! During two of these attacks I have awakened early, only to be rewarded with the knock-em-out gang member holding me down and reapplying his or her knockout punch.

As for the second item, wealth, I submit to you again that I am working two jobs. Neither job pays spectacularly well. So I work, and eat, and work, and sleep, and get the general gist of my day. I am most firmly convinced that there must be another gang of people who simply hand out money to early risers. They skulk about on dark streets, looking for lamps to turn on in the houses of unsuspecting victims. When a light turns on they pull a ski mask over their head and dive into action, running up to the house, shoving the door open, and if it is locked they simply slam a bag of coins into it, to force it open. They hurtle towards the light, until they find their early-rising victim, unto whom they impart fists-full of cash. Then they depart just as quickly and quietly, like the sound of a C-note hitting the floor. I am told that sound is barely audible, but cannot verify that from personal experience. I tried it with a dollar bill, then tried to imagine what it would sound like one hundred times noisier, but I do not believe that was an accurate assessment.

 Lastly, we come to wisdom. No one has ever accused me of being wise. Except when my quick wit, and delightful repartee start to expose themselves and someone says to me, “are you some sort of wise guy?”

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