It's been a week and I am not happy about this Daylight Saving business.
It never used to really make much of a difference to me, as I did not think any self-respecting person should ever confess to being awake before 8 a.m. anyway.
These days, not so much. Now I not only had to readjust to waking up at "3" -- which really means TWO -- it also means that my morning walk, which a week ago was taken at dawn, is now either taken in pitch dark watching the moon set, or pushed off until after deadline and daylight, which results in the quasi-embarrassing situation wherein I am changing clothes and curling my hair and blablabla while sharing the ladies room, as opposed to having my own personal run of the joint with no concern of being walked in on mid-mascara application or worse.
Not to mention that it is sort of weird and creepy to walk around DC before dawn. There are residential blocks with long creepy shadows and lots of dark windows punctuated by the random well-lit apartment where you can see all the interior decorating laid bare. Or there are business zones along major streets with broad sidewalks -- except everything is closed at that hour and just looks empty and cold and forlorn.
I suppose it is dangerous, too. I'm not particularly paranoid, and all a mugger would get off me would be a BlackBerry and an iPod, but still... people have been held up at gunpoint around my office, so I prefer to stick to the better-lighted avenues. That, or chase a jogger for safety in numbers.
But the real reason I don't like walking in the dark is because I'm a top-notch, Grade A spaz. I trip over my laces. I trip over curbs. I trip over cobblestones and construction cones. I'm aware of my surroundings, I see the the sidewalk is lumpy, and then I thunk right over the protruding pavement anyway. I think I get more exercise catching myself than I do from any actual forward motion.
Laurie Anderson wrote a song about walking and falling. I know she was being deep and meaningful, but this is all I've been able to think of as I've spent my time stumbling around predawn DC.
I guess on the plus side, any would-be mugger will just think, "La, she's too drunk to bother with," and it can be my saving grace. I remember in college I'd stomp home from Boyfriend's apartment at 2 and 3 a.m. after arguments and I'd be flailing my arms and railing aloud to myself about what an ass he was. I'm pretty sure looking like a lunatic prevented a couple of confrontations. Nowadays people would just assume I was on a cellphone. Maybe I should sing aloud with the iPod? That'd have to be good for a forcefield the distance that sound carries....
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