Sleepless

"Son of a ...," Ruth began, snorting awake and staring at the ceiling. "Fuuuu ... " It sometimes helped to almost swear, but not today. Knowing that she had hours of dragging around the house trying to find something to do, Ruth rose and flipped off the moon through her bedroom window. At 1am, plodding from the bathroom to the kitchen, there came a knock at the door. Shocked, she hung back (afraid) and only risked an eyeball at the peephole after the second firm knock. On the porch was an enormous arrangement of flowers (roses, carnations, lilies, and some purple whatsit she could never remember the name of); the card said, "Welcome to Sleepless!" An envelope was left leaning against the vase, and Ruth opened it carefully. It was a proper (and fancy) invitation to Sleepless, the World's First Involuntary Nocturnal Community. There were chat rooms, events, online classes in every conceivable subject, a digital exercise studio, a directory of 24/7 places to shop with deep discounts offered to members, and a dating service (all ages). "You are not alone," the card read. "The world over, people are stirring awake and into action. Life is not more valuable at 2pm that it is at 2am, and we here at Sleepless believe in living our best lives whenever that happens to be. Your tour guide is: Terry, who happens to be wide awake and thriving less than two miles away." Underneath the intro, Terry had written (in lovely penmanship) that she was thrilled to have another Sleepless neighbor and wondered if (after the Zoom introductions had established a certain level of comfort) Ruth would like to spruce up for a go at early morning Vino & Bunco. The world opened before her and Ruth, feeling a bit like Ebenezer Scrooge given a second chance at Christmas, shook off her doldrums and pledged never to wince at a wee hour again.