It's Like I Don't Even Know Me Anymore

So this bizarre thing seems to have happened to me.

For no particular reason -- and I mean NO reason -- I've started waking up without the aid of an alarm clock at precisely 6:00 AM. Every day. Even weekends.

Now, as anybody who's ever lived with me can attest ... parents, siblings, pets, college roommates, grad school roommates, post-grad school roommates, The Missus ... this is HIGHLY unnatural behavior for me.

Waking up too early is just not a problem I've ever had.

I'm nocturnal. A late sleeper. A night person. A bat. A night owl. A complete and total slugabed. (Yes, that totally is SO a real word. No, I didn't make it up! Shut up! No, YOU shut up! Yeah-huh! Is so!)

In fact, the caffeine blast generally necessary to propel me first into a vertical position, and then to send me shambling forward through a typical work day ... well, it's roughly the equivalent of what a few kegs of black powder and some Mythbusters might generate.

"But Mooooom! My ass IS out of bed!"

So it's something of an understatement when I say that not once in my four decades of life have I ever been a morning person.

Until about a month ago.

It's like a switch was flipped.

The weird part is, I have changed absolutely nothing about my routine. No changes in exercise, diet, caffeine intake ... nada.

My body, it seems, has engineered a bloodless coup d'etat and has seized control from my brain. I have been in charge, it seems, for quite long enough. I can no longer be trusted to operate myself.

So there's a new sheriff in town and now it's lights out at 11.

Gone is the 3 AM channel surfing. Gone is Twittering till dawn. Even if I want to stay awake, it's just not possible. It's like C-3PO when he gets switched off. I'm OUT. Down. Gone. One minute I'm there, the next I'm not. (Amusingly, I'm told this often happens mid-sentence.)

So what's the deal? Why the hell is this happening?

The way I see it, I figure there are three options:

1) It's just possible, I suppose, that this might potentially perhaps just be a sign that I'm getting ... you know ...... old.

"Grrrr ... Letters to the Editor, prostate glands and opinions about new music!"

Or ... and I personally believe this is the FAR more likely scenario ...

2) Maybe, just maybe ... I shouldn't have poked that thing I found next to the bed with that stick.

"Maybe it's filled with candy! Wait ... OH, GOD! That's not candy! That's not candy at all!"

3) Of course, it would be irresponsible of me to rule out the possibility -- remote as it may be -- that I'm actually an avatar being driven around by a wheelchair-bound space marine.

One must cover one's bases, after all.

"Wait. So last time I got to operate a bad-ass, ten-foot, blue, monkey-cat-alien on a mind-blowingly fantastical jungle planet ... and now I'm driving around in a little fat guy in Jersey? You suck, James Cameron. Hard."

Oh, well.

(sigh)

See you in the morning, I guess.



Till next we--- (snore) ...