Even on weekend mornings, I'm not usually zonked out and in bed at 8:00. I also don't usually get calls at that time, either (the curse and sometimes blessing of dial-up*, heh). I tend to ease -- no, eeeeeeeeeeease -- into my weekend days.
For a good reason, I didn't yesterday. Because Saturday morning, the bindery where I've been temping needed someone on really short notice.
But again, I was NOT happy to be awakened that way. Later I sent an apology email to the temp agency rep who called me -- meaning she was up and functional earlier on Saturday morning than I was -- and I added that the sudden work day worked out. And I could use the hours.
Why was I in bed that (relatively for me) late? I'd been out Friday night at the Bagdad Theatre and Pub not only for the Cort and Fatboy Midnight Movie -- Poltergeist (1982), which holds up REALLY well and worked the audience like an energetic masseuse -- but, unusual for me, I stayed out longer instead of going straight home. I visited with friends in the Backstage, the bar space that's literally behind the screen (well, the wall the screen is in) at the Bagdad. Said friends had offered me drinks. I wasn't in the mood to drink, I was in the mood to visit, so I said No, thank you. And the friends I was hanging around with are eminently visitable. Neat, sometimes crazy stuff spilled from our heads. (Three words: Jimmy Stewart, Pimp. Yes, I know how far down The Wrong Hole that idea falls.) Had I had any drink stronger than a cola, I probably would've felt even more wrecked Saturday morning. And I probably wouldn't have been able to muster myself to go to the job.
If I couldn't have driven, either, I would have had less incentive to get there; weekend bus trips can take extra-long. But the car worked out: Getting up, showered, dressed, into the car, over to a McDonald's (hey, it's fast and cheap and has the flavored calories) then over to the bindery was a manageable trip. I was at work at 9:30, 90 minutes after I'd been awakened by the call, and was able to work until shift-end at 3:00. As a thank-you for accommodating the job, the supervisor who'd called me in signed me out for a full shift, 7.5 hours, meaning that strictly speaking I was earning money between 7 and 8, asleep in bed. And earning money while headed there. Nice to get paid for your commute!
Luckily, the particular work I did yesterday was not very strenuous; had it been, I might not have lasted until 3:00. I knew that had I not been able to finish the shift, I had the option to pull the ripcord; and since the job had called me in, I would've gotten a minimum of four hours paid work. But I did more than that. (It's also not particularly exciting work, so no real point describing it here, but hey, it was a chance to think...)
And I'm nowhere near the most-difficult-to-wake-up person I know. My cousin Amy/Max/"Maximy" (as I call her) Walsh has been known to HIT people who try to wake her up. She's strong. You don't want to be near those arms in those situations.
* Seriously, I am still on dial-up.