I know that it's very European to eat dinner at a late hour. The last time I was in France, I know that Christopher and I had dinners that started after 9 and went on for hours. And when we were in Las Vegas and Montreal, we did that as well. (Not that Vegas is European, but the restaurant we were in was French bistro-y, at least. And Montreal is about as European as you can get without transcontinental travel.)
Today, though, I was awakened at 4:39 am to let the dog out. She let me get back to sleep for a little while - well, she let me doze at least - while she curled under the covers between Christopher and me so that she could stay warm. I eventually got up around 6:30 - a good 15 minutes before my alarm was expected to go off, and about an hour before I would usually get up for work.
I worked 8-4, today, so that I could drive home to South Dakota after work to spend the weekend with my folks. And I'm quite happy to report that traffic moved smoothly and I got here about 9:30. Which leads me back to where I started.
You see, Mom had asked me, earlier this week, whether I'd want any dinner after I got here. And I said that it sounded good. So just after 10 o'clock - about 16 hours (and a 5.5-hour drive) after I got up this morning - I was sitting at the kitchen table eating a hamburger (or two).
Now it's after 11, and although I feel like I really ought to go to bed, I'm also feeling like I should keep moving so the food doesn't just settle in my stomach like a lump. But after the yawn that just kept me from finishing that last sentence, I think the lump is going to win.
Oh... And before I go... Chag Pesach Semaech! (That's basically "Happy Passover!" in case you don't read Yiddish like some of my friends do.)