ARRIVING FOR THE EARLY SHOW

There are many days, too many, that I stay at work later than any sane person should. I have been better in recent years because a coworker kept me honest about leaving close to quitting time, but then she retired. Another coworker has picked up the slack, though, so I am much better about getting my car into parent-pick-up traffic rather than post-Boston commuter traffic.

It's my morning routine that still needs a little finesse.

I have some mornings that I simply cannot sleep, so I leave for work early. Or, I have to get to the post office. Or, I need to escape from my complex because someone is going to be tarring at the ass-crack of dawn. 

I am almost ashamed to admit that this is my car, by itself, in the school parking lot, around 6:30 a.m. For clarity, my hours start officially at 8:20 a.m. I'm not suffering or anything. I get first dibs on the copy machine, no one stops me for an impromptu conference as I head to the mail room, I make myself tea in peace, and nobody looks at me suspiciously if I stop to pee in the deserted student bathroom.

That's right. No normal, well-adjusted person would come to work so damn early. As you can see in the pictures, even the specialty bus-vans hadn't left on their routes yet. However, in my defense, I couldn't sleep, and the complex scheduled speed-bump shaving (complex built them too tall last summer, and we are all scraping our cars' undercarriages) to start at exactly 7:00 a.m.. Since Mother Nature had already thrown off our paving schedule this past June, I didn't want to take any chances.

On a positive note, I was well-caffeinated by the time everyone else arrived at work. On a negative note, I lacked an audience for a good thirty minutes, and I probably whistled, sang, and danced some of my best material before that lot filled in.