I've officially started working nights at a local hospital. And once again, I am forced to confront my own mortality. No, not in any deep philosophical vein of thought dealing with death. (I'm far too sleep-deprived to even begin contemplating such a profound topic.) No, what I speak of is the frailty of my own body. Specifically, the fact that it refuses to function on less than six hours of sleep.
Left to my own devices, I will go to sleep at ten in the evening and wake up at eight. Why? Because when God made me, God apparently said to the angels, "Hey, let's make her need ten hours of sleep--just to do something different for once!" And the angels nodded their heads and chorused back to God, "Good idea, Boss!"
Unfortunately, this example of questionably Intelligent Design means that if I stay up past midnight, my head turns into a pumpkin. I develop a searing headache and my capacity for rational thought goes through the toilet. In five years of college, I never once pulled an all-nighter--because I knew the end result would probably lower my grade more than skipping the assignment.
I worked Wednesday and Thursday nights. This meant that in the thirty six hours from 8:45am Friday to 8:45pm today, I slept for about twenty three of those hours. It's nice to have a job, but the idea that working nights means that I won't have a life really is taking some getting used to.
I get so much more knitting accomplished when I'm not working. (The flip side of this is that jobs help me pay for yarn, so I suppose that there is some merit to gainful employment.)
The burgundy cabled socks I started on for EJ are not going to be his gift after all. When I tried them on to check the length, I realized that the cables made the sock pull in far more than I'd anticipated. And if I can barely get them on over my size 8 women's foot, there was no way they'd fit my brother's size 10 men's feet. So, rather than rip out four day's knitting, and start over, I think they'll be a gift for one of my female friends. One of the ones with small feet.
Which means... I have no idea what EJ will get for Christmas. Maybe a learn-to-knit-yourself-socks kit? I think this Red Cross commemorative one comes in a suitably masculine bile green color.