Since I've been in New York, I've developed a modicum -- but only a modicum -- of empathy for those brokers, clients, journalists and business people who used to call me at 6 in the morning when I lived in California.
It was a fairly regular occurrence, so when the phone rang at that hour, I simply picked it up and said, "Do you know what *time* it is???"
In those days, I thought New Yorkers were simply narcissistic and therefore oblivious, but now that I'm on the east coast and of all my phone calls go to the west coast, I know better. I'm certainly not narcissistic. And I'm never oblivious. (Ahem) But I'm frequently impatient. Waiting until noon to make a business call is almost a physical impossibility for me.
So as I wait, I ponder who I might call to while away the time. Let's see, it's 9 a.m. here. Tanya? No way. Her dogs aren't even up yet. Trina? Nope, she takes after Dad. She'll be up in another four hours or so. I know...MOM! The original morning person.
Unfortunately, Mom's in the hospital right now. (She fell and failed to bounce. No broken bones, though. She should be home soon.) But that doesn't stop me. So when I called yesterday, I noticed she was kind of whispering.... Oh right, the roommate. I forgot.
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