The thing I like most about Saturday mornings is the silence. The birds still sing in the tree outside the window. The traffic still rushes down the street, as if this was just an ordinary day. What I don’t hear is the telephone ringing at some horrendous hour of the morning. This is a welcome break from my weekday life.
My morning routine on waking is monotonously consistent. When awareness of the living world nudges me, my eyes remain closed and I try to estimate the time by listening to the passing traffic out in the still dark morning. Next one eye opens and peers cautiously at the clock. Dare I doze off again, or is phone call time dangerously close? On more rebellious days I pretend the phone won’t ring and snuggle down again, hopeful I’ll have half an hour longer in bed.
That’s when the phone rings loudest, when I’m almost back to sleep, forgetting it’s a weekday morning. The shrill noise penetrates the whole room as I fumble in the dark for the light and the phone, knowing the busy but fun day I’d planned will be put on hold.
You see, I’m a day relief teacher and, although much of my work is booked ahead of time, early morning calls from a school when a teacher calls in sick come when least expected.
Saturday mornings are different. The phone remains silent beside the bed, knowing its safe from the crazy fumbling of a half wakened lady. The phone is safe from being sent flying onto the floor as my extended hand misses its mark in the dark. My half-awake appearance at that time of morning won’t startle the phone, causing it to recoil and switch off.
Saturday is one of my two days off, a welcome break from early morning calls. For today my slumber time is safe.