Night Time at the Glover House

At a certain point during the night, after we put our daughter to bed, I like to break out my guitar and noodle. I bust out the “Kasuga” electric, work through my scale warm-up, and jam through a few tunes. The same probably happens at other homes: the children go to bed, the adults unwind for an hour or so, and they call it a night no later than ten p.m. or so.

“I’m going to watch a movie,” my wife said. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to work out for about a half hour,” I said.

“Guitar?”

“Yeah, sure.  Not now though.”

I retrieved my workout journal from the bedroom. It was just another average night in an average American household. I checked the time. It was nearly midnight. Other families might be fast asleep, but the Glover household was just kicking it into gear.

• 11:50 p.m.: it’s never too late to begin a bodyweight squat program. I begin with shoulder stand squats.
• 12:00 a.m.: the midnight barrier passes without a hitch. I’m in the middle of a hard set of squats.
• 12:05 a.m.: the wife enters the kitchen. “Time to make popcorn,” she says. Why not? It’s only five after twelve, plenty of time to catch a classic.
• 12:20 a.m.: after a tough workout, I close the journal and deposit it back up on the shelf. I take a look at the bed, but I haven’t practiced my mixolydian scale yet. Besides, it’s not even one o’clock yet.
• 1:00 a.m.: in the midst of a I-IV-V chord progression, Lana’s had enough. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.” We kiss goodnight. “Going to read for a while?” I ask. I’m curious, just in case I happen to finish playing in the next five minutes and decide to call it a night myself. Fat chance of that. “Just for a little while,” she says. “Good night.”
• 1:10 a.m.: the guitar jam’s going well, but something’s missing. Why, it’s tea time. I interrupt my Claptonesque solo and make myself a pot of green tea. Just right.
• 1:35 a.m.: I place the guitar back in its stand. It’s the perfect time to check the DVR for the latest recording of “Batman”, 1960s style. Holy late night!
• 2:00 a.m.: I’m done. Finally. It’s time to tip toe into the bedroom… Wait a minute. Look who’s still up. My wife has a stack of magazines and books next to her on the bed. “I thought you were exhausted,” I say. “I am,” she says. “As long as you’re still up,” I say, grabbing a pile of books a man on horseback couldn’t see over, “I guess I’ll do a little reading too.”
• 3:00 a.m.: lights out at last.

It’s been a long day. We’re both exhausted. We swear this will never happen again. “We’ve got to stop doing this,” one of us will say, and we mean it – until tomorrow. Does this sound familiar to anyone?