Up early this morning. For the umpteenth time.
I am not the soundest sleeper. My brain does not permit such things, nor does the world around me.
At home it is sound. Passing cars, often with huge-ass sound systems, police sirens, rumbling trucks, snoring GF. Heck, even the cat snores.
Here at Mum's house in the old folks' home, it's a different story. The place is blissfully quiet, as most of the residents are out from nine in the evening to six in the morning. Ahhhhh.
But the lights. The place is an extreme example of the intermittent light pollution rampant in American life now. From her den, her sleeping computer flashes an angry, green complaint at a cycle per second. In every room, the emergency call buttons blink bright white at about a third that frequency. From the kitchen, the stove clock winks. In the dining room, my laptop blinks.
It's like Christmas Eve, when you leave the tree on for Santa, only every night of the year.
Less frequently, electronic voices are lifted in complaint or happy, helpful announcement. A phone mewls that it wants power. The elevator in the hall gives a contented, synthetic bong when it arrives on the floor. Faint, high-pitched whines and the more traditional 60-cycle hums abound.
This is what life is like almost everywhere now, even in the darkest and quietest of spaces, and I wonder if it could possibly be good for us.
Sleep interruption aside, surely this constant blinking and beeping must be having some effect on our already tired bodies and worried minds. I know of no research linking this tiny, electronic racket to cancer or palsy, but have little doubt it contributes to the general state of going-fucking-crazy-itis that pervades our society.
Or maybe that's just the sleep deprivation talking. I should probably just get up and turn on the coffee maker. It's clock's about to roll over to 5:30 anyway.