Phone calls from Dad

On Tuesday and Wednesday mornings, I carpool into the the city with my friend Cassie (except on those days when I have a meeting here in Keflavik, like today). She has class that starts at 9, so we leave here at 8am. This is not too terribly early, but considering the fact that I stay up until 1:30 every night (so I can Skype Palmer), and I otherwise work from home, I am always a little worried about sleeping in too late. Like missing an early morning flight, or something.

I have not used an alarm clock since I was very young, except in really emergency situations. I just cannot stand waking up to some electronic noise, even if it is the radio. I want a peaceful morning. By the time I was 13, I had trained myself to wake up at a certain time, without an alarm clock. Before I go to bed, I tell myself what time I need to get up. It has worked like a charm for over 20 years. I sometimes have an alarm clock for backup, but as far as I recall, I always wake up before the alarm goes off.

Despite the relative security of my system, my father has had cause over the years to find it less than adequate. He is a real early bird, I mean up by 5:30am. And honestly, I think he is usually looking for something to do. But also, well, he is not so entirely sure that the rest of the world is quite as responsible as he is. So, if one of us kids has a flight, or something we need to get to, Dad makes a point of calling.

Now that I live in Iceland, Dad does not do that anymore.