I haven’t been completely successful in tracking down the origin of 10 o’clock and all’s well! In medieval towns, night watchmen guarded against invasion, thieves, and fire. Town criers made their alarm or all’s well announcements on the hour. I’m uncertain what happened if a fire should start, at say, 10:20.
During the Civil War, the prison camp guards, North and South, were required throughout the night, to call out their post and the hour:
“Thus,” recalled one prisoner, “at ten o’clock the cry would begin ‘Post number one — ten o’clock and all’s well.’ ‘Post number two — ten o’clock and all’s well …
In rural southern Texas, we don’t have any town criers and I’m the only guard within hollering distance. We have some rural roosters, but they’re pretty quiet until the early morning hours. Still, at 10 o’clock all is well.
11 o’clock, now that’s a different story.
If I’m typing, my dyslexia manifests itself in five out of ten words.
If I’m knitting I drop stitches. By the time I’m alert enough to know I’ve dropped them, it’s usually many rows, some times many days later. At which point, I resort to taking a piece of yarn and tying the hole together in the back. I’m a persistently unambitious knitter of long rows and squares.
If I’m watching TV, my finger stays permanently indented on the fast forward arrow until I’ve skipped, not only the commercial, but the next 9 episodes of Cold Case.
If I’m reading, my eyes slowly meet in the middle, lose focus and flutter shut.
The feeling of sleepiness when you are not in bed, and can’t get there, is the meanest feeling in the world. ~Edgar Watson Howe
I wouldn’t say it’s the meanest feeling, but with the bobbing of my heavy head, the startlingly loud ringing of the bell races my heart as I leap to my feet! It’s akin to a mild panic attack.
This doze zone seems to last for about an hour or sometimes two. I’m almost always quite wide awake at 6 am when it’s time for me to go to bed.
It’s a cruel season that makes you get ready for bed while it’s light out. ~Bill Watterson
What is this strange malady? I get up around 2pm. At 11, I think it’s time to go back to bed. It’s crazy. It’s dark of course and quiet (now that our wild pig snaring men have left for Louisiana) but still, with my schedule, it’s early. When I used to get up at 6 in the morning, I wasn’t particularly tired at 11.
Since I get up at 2, 11 is like 1 or 2 in the afternoon for a regular person.
You know how it is when you get that mid-afternoon haze at work and nobody’s made fresh coffee? You need some even though it’s too hot for coffee anyway, and you drink the dredges because you can’t write a complete sentence without it.
Sleep is a symptom of caffeine deprivation. ~Author Unknown
The only thing that seems to keep me awake is too much coffee and food. I don’t often fall asleep while eating. The problem is this method requires constant input which has led to every pair of my jeans straining to contain me. So now I’m on a diet. That means I’m now hungry and sleepy.
I’ve only been at this for 6 months: working nights, not dieting. I’ve only been at that today. Some night are certainly better than others. Maybe I just need a little more time to adapt. How about you other night owls who work, or have worked nights? Do you have any tips?
The fog has cleared for now. 1 o’clock and all’s well, again!
I’m not asleep… but that doesn’t mean I’m awake. ~Author Unknown