It’s 4 O’Clock Somewhere

People looking for the magical 5 O’clock to begin margaritas are on the wrong side of the AM/PM spectrum as far as my work days have been going lately. For some reason, and I’m not entirely sure how it came about, this last week has been flipped around a bit.  But I’m going to chalk it up to throwing in a Thanksgiving holiday into the mix that fouled up the rhythm of my workdays.

My quiet early mornings when I have solitude and peaceful beginnings before the sun rises, have been interrupted with alarm clocks and scrambling to get a move on.

Within the span of a week we have had early wood deliveries, rigs preparing to make runs for the grass seed screening pellets we use for grain, and other pre-dawn preps for day-long drives. By 7 pm each day the house has bedded down for the night because someone is getting up at 4am or earlier, and if one gets up then I am up, that is just the way it is.

Half awake, over easy eggs get morph into scrambled. Toast can be burned on one side and flimsy on the other. Pancakes are pulled out of the freezer from the big batch I had made ahead of time. The coffee pot seems to be percolating along spewing its chugging brew most of the morning.

As for margaritas, it doesn’t matter if it is AM or PM, we are simply too busy and too flipped wrong with the clock these days to even contemplate them.

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