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Super Shuttle vs. Terrible Tuesday

Since the roommate has to get to work before the bus lines start running on this half of town, and she doesn't drive, she takes Super Shuttle. This means that they call when they are here to pick her up at the appointed time (3am) and she's not already out and waiting.

After the initial startled reaction the first day, it's become far less of an issue for me. After all, what else are they supposed to do? It's perfectly logical. I'm not such a poor sleeper that a routine disruption is going to make it so that I can't get back to sleep. I get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom; I can become used to getting up in the middle of the night to tell Super Shuttle to chill out, the redhead is on her way.

And it's an excellent way to condition me out of the panic-fear-flight-fight reaction to the phone ringing while I'm asleep. Ever since 1996, if the phone rings while I am asleep, unless I know there is someone else ready to pick up that phone, unless I am so exhausted it doesn't break through, unless I am too tired and confused to find the phone, unless I make the conscious decision not to answer, I will pick up that phone. And I will be ready to do battle with someone or something, or dive halfway across the country and get my loved ones to safety. A wrong number at 8 am on a day when I'm scheduled to sleep until 11 can leave me awake getting rid of the cold shakes of reaction for an hour. A call earlier, especially while I'm sound asleep, is worse.

Today, the only reason I'm still up after they've called is that I needed to use the bathroom anyway, and I needed to get this out of my head. No shakes. No panic. No residual urge to teleport myself to the side of my beloved. It might be finally over.

It was ten years ago, and all parties involved in that ongoing summer of extended emergency are grown and gone. It's about time my body started catching up. Hooray desensitization therapy with Super Shuttle.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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