I awoke this morning with a start, realizing Rudi and I had overslept the alarm somehow. We both had doctor’s appointments this morning, and Rudi’s would require battling traffic to get up to the Maryland border.

I got up in the semi-darkness of the apartment, used the bathroom and turned on the living room light. Then I went and woke Rudi up.

“What time is it?” he asked groggily.

“How weird. The clock says 2:20.”

“Check my cell phone.”

“Nope. My phone says 2:20, too. Nevermind. Go back to sleep,” I mumbled as I slid back into bed.

This is why you should never set your alarm for before the sun gets up. It’s just too easy to get confused.

… the doctor’s office neglects to tell you they won’t be giving you your test results until you call and make a follow-up appointment?

At least they had the decency to apologize when I called to find out why I hadn’t heard anything…

You just have to get up really early and catch a train and a plane and an automobile.

I’m home in Connecticut for a family reunion and to catch up with some old friends. I also meant to do some knitting, but the needles and yarn got left behind on the couch in the last minute throes of my pulling things out of the bag and adding a few more.

Probably just as well. This will force me to do a little more sleeping instead.

When Karen and I were teenagers, we were even more nightowlish than we are now (Rudi and Michael may find that hard to believe). I existed on hours of sleep that could be counted on one hand, while Karen snatched her hours of rest whenever she could find them.

At one point, however, she decided to resynchronize her internal clock and, after doing some research, worked to create new zeitgebers for herself.

What, you ask, are zeitgebers?

Naturally, zeitgebers (German for “time givers”) are the regular occurrences that set a daily rhythm to your day (such as sunlight or temperature). Artificially, they can be anything that regulates your internal clock — from meals to regular activities, such as going for a run or leaving for work or school. They’re the things that cause you to wake up five minutes before your alarm is due to go off every morning. And they generally instruct your body to expect certain things at certain times — creating your body’s version of a Pavlovian response.

My problem is that I currently lack zeitgebers. I eat dinner at random hours — midnight on Sunday, seven on Monday, ten last night, nine tonight. I go to work at different times. I eat lunch whenever I think of it. And it’s starting to create problems with going to sleep, as I’m typing this at half past two in the morning, the only soul awake in the Burrow…

So when I return from Connecticut next week, I will aspire to create some structure in my life to convince my body that 3 a.m. is not an adequate bedtime. I’m not looking to become too regulated (my personality doesn’t really suit that sort of existence or vice versa), but just regular enough that I can hit the hay closer to midnight than sunrise — at least most of the time.

So wish me luck. Or, better yet, drop me a line with your preferred zeitgebers. I’ll let you know whether any of them work for me.

Rudi’s mom is recovering nicely from her heart attack, so he’s coming home today.

I can’t wait to see him. It’s been a little lonely here without him.

Where oh where has my tomato gone?
Where oh where can it be?
With its red, rolly shape and its great bite and taste
Where oh where can it be?

No, seriously? Have you seen a cherry tomato? Homegrown? I made the mistake of clearing the rest of the stuff off the counter and then going out for the evening with friends. I came home — one still on the counter, one on the floor by the cats dish, one … where?

The cats look guilty, but refuse to tell me where they hid this new toy.

If you were a cherry tomato, where would you be?

——

8/13/05 Update: The missing cherry tomato has been relocated (and, for good measure, consumed). Thank you for your concern.