Witching Hour
I work in a 24-hour call center and my shift ends at midnight. As far as I know I am the only person who leaves at midnight, everybody else leaves at 10:00 or 10:30 pm or even as late as 11:30 pm. Oh, there have been others who were scheduled to leave at midnight. They didn’t last.
Even though we work the same length shift, the others cringe at the thought of working so late. The time feels later, more onerous somehow. When your workday ends at 11:30p, it’s still the same calendar day. But time has always ticked over to the next day by the time I go home.
And superstition must not be left out of the equation. Ending a workday at the stroke of the witching hour can shake all but the sturdiest of souls. Even in this most technical of ages, when very few people truly believe in ghouls or witches or werewolves, most people choose not to be out and about when spirits roam the earth.
I love midnight, with its loneliness and dark connotations. Driving home that late makes me feel like I inhabit a rather empty world. Even the never-ending stream of traffic on the highway underpass takes on a not-quite-real quality.
On the nights when I stop at the grocery store on the way home, I’m extra nice to the graveyard-shifters and the other midnight shoppers. We are part of an odd minority. We choose this weird, nocturnal existence and we like it that way.
Some nights when I’m not working, I can’t keep my eyes open. I fall asleep by 10:00 pm, but then I wake up around 4:00 am and can’t go back to sleep. But most of the time I stay up late even on the nights when I could be sleeping.
I simply don’t understand those people who go to bed early and get up with the chickens. When do they do their thinking?!
It’s much easier to let my mind swim in the deep end in the dark stillness of the night. The clamor of daytime noises and light leaves little room and peace for a thoughtful soul. I will sacrifice sleep for peace and quiet any day.
So don’t pity me when I tell you my schedule, I like it this way.