Why I Get Up So Early

I’ve been working a very demanding schedule of late, and have started seeing this as an advantage. After making sacrifices to keep my job, I now have more time to do things I care about without worrying about how my boss will react when I come home at the crack of dawn.

I haven’t had a lot of time to sleep lately, and I’ve had the unfortunate experience of being awakened by a ringing in my ear before noon every morning. I don’t like waking up too early, as I find it easier to go to bed with my eyes open. I like the feeling of rising before the sun to take a walk and get something to eat, without worrying about getting up to do it. I still love my job, but I wouldn’t trade my mornings for anything.

I woke up at six, after the last few hours. I went on a walk with my best friend, a man I’ve known for twenty years. While walking we started discussing the possibility of getting a place together to have sex and eventually raise a family.  He mentioned at the beginning that it might be a bit too early to get married. I told him that when you are twenty-one, it’s too early to have children. I don’t think he understood the point, as he told me I thought I might want children because I’d get married. He reminded me that his parents did the same thing. I said I didn’t. He didn’t realize this was a different time in our country’s history. He seemed very upset and confused.

Later in the evening, I got a call from him. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t have anything for us.” I asked what he meant.  “We’ll have to find somewhere else to live together.” I asked if I could help out. “Nah. Fuck it. I’ll find someone else.” “You always do,” I said. “What you should have done,” he said, was “just come back here and take care of yourself. You never knew how much you depended on me, you know. You got me to move back to you, and I always will–you’ve got me with you and everything, every minute of every day. Come back here and take care of you.” It was then that I found out he had also written an apology on my wall, that he still loved me and understood there was no sense pretending to care about things. I didn’t need to be here anymore, but he still felt there was value in that. It was hard for me to hear that, too. He asked me if I was alright and gave his number to me.

The following day I found out about the house we are going to rent. It’s two rooms in the house next door. We’re both renting. He wants to move back soon, and I was glad to help him out. It’s a great, great apartment and I’m really happy. I can’t wait to start working on my own apartment and not worry about him. The housekeeper told me that there were already two men in the house who had rented it previously. Her father let three guys stay and the woman’s boyfriend. “Do you want to help me find the place or not?” he asked. I was a little unsure. If I wasn’t there, how were they going to know the guy’s name? What happens if I didn’t come back for a couple weeks or months again? Would it be difficult to see them? When they were gone I’d just end up moving, moving, moving.  “Nah,” I said. “This is my apartment and if they leave, it doesn’t matter.”

I found a new place to go and made the arrangements, and we found the perfect place, so it felt right. When I walked in the door I could see it in the first room. It was a very big place.