One of the constant struggles of my life is that I have always – since the 5th grade – been a nocturnal person, whose "biological clock" always tells him that going to bed between 3-5am and getting up in the late morning is the right schedule to keep. This was useful as a grade school amateur astronomer or as a college student who enjoyed the classic late night deep conversations of the college sort. It's not so useful a tendency now, when I'm finding that I'm not actually as productive in late hours as I used to be, and who wants to be on a diurnal schedule so that I can hang out with the rest of the world while they're awake.
Enter Erik, who's up tonight driving from Boston to make a 5am airline flight out of Hartford, Connecticut, and who therefore figures he can call me at 2:35am just to "catch up," because I was going to be up anyway.
Except, of course, that I went to bed at midnight, keeping my "diurnal" success rate going for a few days in a row now. After letting the call go to voice mail, since I blearily was figuring from the bedroom that it was probably a drunken student mis-dial, anyway, I then stumbled to the living room once I recognized his voice, picking up the phone just in time for him to hang up. I called back to make sure things were alright, though I wasn't too worried that something was wrong, given the tone of his voice as I'd heard it. And so, a good catching up: old catch-phrases and favourite jokes wove their way into the dialogue, including the venerable "All I wanted was a scoooop!" which had been my imagined self-justification the night he, Mark and I debated driving through the front window of the Baskin-Robbins that had closed earlier than we thought reasonable. He spoke of the grad class he's teaching for high school counselors, family stuff, stories of restoring old friendships, and ending with an account of watching the predictable end of some friends' attempt at an "open marriage," and I shared my own news of the last month. I'm still not ready to give him a final date about my trip to Boston to see him when I turn in this next chapter of the dissertation and go out to Boston College to confer with my dissertation director and my dissertation subject, and he's all anxious about that, with plans to geek out together over some of the American Revolutionary War era sites around the city.
Me, while preferring not to have had my sleep ruined, am far more happy simply to have old friends who are willing to do things as fundamentally dorky as call at 2:35 in the morning to catch up for an hour. Good stuff.