…unless you live with Copenhagen's newest Ph.D postal worker, in which case only every other Saturday is for sleeping in.
Remarkably, we both fell back into the 5 a.m. rising-but-not-necessarily-shining-routine without too much drama this week. But I can already tell I'm not going to like the every-other-Saturday Post Danmark work schedule. For one thing, it pretty much ruins every-other-Friday night, too; Dr. Darling has to teetotal it AND go to bed by 10 p.m. Turns out it's not all that much fun to stay up late drinking alone. How can so many alcoholic recluses be so wrong?
And while the Swede was convinced how wonderful it was going be for me to be able roll over and go back to sleep after the alarm went off at o'dark-thirty (for the sixth day in a row) this morning, it didn't exactly happen that way. I tossed and turned for about 30 minutes before giving in and getting up just before 6:00.
If there isn't already a law against this, there ought to be. And if it's not enacted before Dr. Darling's next Saturday shift, I'm definitely sleeping in the guest room on Friday night.