He doesn’t pick up until the fifth ring, and sounds muzzy. “Hey, Holly. What time is it?” “Quarter past seven.” “Are you kidding? That isn’t even a real hour.”
I’m with him. My favourite T-shirt says, “ ‘Good’ and ‘Morning’ is an oxymoron.” (I have probably every sleep disorder that exists, and one of them is called a “delayed sleep phase.” For me, my innate sleep cycle is to go to sleep at 4:00 am and wake at noon.)
