Adventures of a Night Dweller

I don't use my bank account very often, mostly just to pay for my photography website and my World Vision kid, so I'm constantly forgetting to put my money in on time. This has resulted in lots of overdraw fees. This month, I was determined to be punctual. World Vision automatically withdraws on the 10th, so I said to myself, "I'll put the money in on the 7th!" But I didn't. "Okay, then, the 8th!" But I put it off. "The 9th?" I forgot. It was left until today, the 10th, at the very last minute.

I remembered seeing that my bank closes at 1 pm on weekends, which was unfortunate for me because it meant I would have to get up at 12. Because of my paper route, my sleep schedule is backward. Getting up at 12 for me is like getting up at 4 am for most people. Except that when you get up at 4 am, you're tired but at least it's dark and cool outside and there are pretty stars and all the stoplights change quickly for you. Noon in Florida is the exact opposite of that.

So I crawled out of bed at the appointed time, put some normal-people clothes on, and opened the front door, where I found myself assaulted by a tidal wave of heat and light. I had forgotten where I lived, having only been outside in the evening or at night for the last month. I had forgotten the brutal fist of the sun and what it felt like to be punched by sweltering heat.

Still, it had to be done. I staggered to my car, not quite fully awake yet, and sat for five minutes trying to figure out why the A/C wasn't working. (It was. It just takes awhile for it to get things going in the oven we call our state.) Slowly, carefully, I pulled out onto the street, and as soon as I was surrounded by more cars than I'd seen in the past week, my eyes shut down, refusing to open and be subjected to more pain. Tears wormed their way up and over onto my cheeks. Luckily, I drove so slowly while battling with my eyelids that everyone zoomed around me and I was relatively safe.

I drove for ten minutes, my eyes still not adjusted to the strange world of daytime, and finally arrived at the bank. There were no cars in the parking lot (which only seemed normal to a 2-am-worker like me) so I pulled into the best spot: the one right in front of the door. It was there that I gazed up through half-blurred eyes at the sign proclaiming the bank's hours of operation.

Banks aren't open on Sundays.