"You're not nineteen anymore." Part II

There's something to be said for having a new romance in your life, the good feelings, the happiness, the giddy behavior, it's all good. There's also that period of adjustment where you acclimate to another person's habits and schedule. Red works nights. I, well, work early days. But we're adjusting, and she's got a shot at a day job coming up. The point being that I have the distinct habits of being not only a morning person, but also a night owl. Not exactly a recipe for a well-rested Dave. I guess, as the song says, I'll sleep when I'm dead.

The situation vaguely reminds me of a relationship I had several years ago, when I was a 24-year-old crazy man with wild hair and a spirit-crushing job. I was dating C, who was a bartender at a place around the corner from my house. I went to my job as Hub Manager at soul-stealing company at 7, worked until at least 7, went home, ate, then went down to see her at the bar, went home with her at 2:30, then woke up at 6, walked home, took a shower, and went back to work. That job was really taxing. Most of my co-workers and friends thought I was insane for doing it, and that I was going into a very early grave if I kept it up. At least I had a good staff to help keep me moderately sane. I miss them. They were damn good to me.

I got away with it then because I was younger. I wasn't on the caffeine, either- hell, I gave that up at 22, and still haven't gone back. This year marks 10 years without that wonderful elixr of the sleep-deprived. Amazing. What's more amazing is I feel like it's been 100 years since then- where did the time go?