Much as I want the world to believe in a glorious angel bear, everyone’s bosom pal, winging his flight through the heavens, dropping cheer and platitudes and miracles like tiny, shining paratroopers everywhere he goes, the fact still remains that I’m human.
I still have to decide which of the daytime hours will be my bedtime.
This may hamper my church activities at a time when my church is discovering that I have some talents to give and deciding how best to make use of them. Its only service is still Sunday morning at 10:00 AM through 12:30 PM. In all other churches that have dared to offer evening services, the evening service is a paltry shadow of the morning service. Some people never attend any other time than Sunday morning, and it is only then that they can be reached with my brilliance.
The shift change offers the first access to prime time TV programming I’ve had since both my VCRs went bad sometime last year. (Those accursed roaches! May they never bear another clutch of eggs!)
Sleep in the morning, or sleep in the evening? Gad! Why do we have to sleep at all? Life is too much fun to have to waste ⅓ of it unconscious.
And certainly too much fun to chop it short like too many misguided souls in the furry fandom do.