Bedtime

I was unemployed for three months and semi-unemployed for four months. During those seven months, I didn’t have a bedtime. I flitted around the apartment with the lights on and radio cranked up to the highest volume. I coaxed Ben into 8pm movies, 9pm infomercials, and 10pm television shows. I flipped through magazines under the bedside lamp until midnight and annoyed Ben as I hid under the covers and text messaged friends, played Tetris. When asked what the beeping noises were, I always responded with, “Beeping noises? What beeping noises? I don’t hear anything.” Ben complained that my erratic night schedule made it difficult for him to fall sleep and even more difficult for him to wake up in the morning for work. Pfff, I thought.

But, oh, how the times have changed since getting a job at two schools and a sensory gym. I follow a strict nighttime routine. Clock work. Pajamas on and teeth brushed by 9:30pm, comfortably nestled in bed by 9:45pm, and lights turned off by 10pm. I settled into this routine while Ben was away on business in London. He left a night owl and returned to a sergeant of bedtime boot camp.

Last night, at 10pm, the TV still blared in the background. I rolled over and gently, kindly reminded Ben that it was time for bed. He acted surprised and timidly asked if he could continue to watch his show. I shook my head. I can’t bring home the bacon without a little shuteye.

Ben sighed, defeated. He turned off the TV and tossed the remote on the nightstand.

Times have changed. I’m a working woman now.