It was 11:40pm on a Friday, and my husband and I were working in our computers a couple meters apart from each other, the usual sighting in our house every night, when he suddenly says: “it’s Friday already?!” to which I responded: “it’s the end of Friday.” Technically, in about 20minutes, it was going to be Saturday already.
But he said: “I don’t think you get it, we live in different time zones.” and I said: “I get it, I just forget.”
He is a computer programmer, and all of his clients are in the U.S. He begins work around 9:30pm Indian Time (9am US Pacific Time) and, lately, has been going to bed around 4am. It varies. (He also does some work scattered throughout the day.) Because of this difference, he wakes up 1-3 hours after I do. (I go to bed pretty late, 2am last night.)
His weekend in India begins Saturday morning and ends Monday night before bed, when work starts again.
So in all these ways, he lives in a different time zone than me. But last night I decided that I like his time zone better because during this time there is no one coming to our house (every single day we have people come to our house unannounced many times a day), and it is also quieter outside, except two nights ago when neighbors where playing music with a megaphone microphone until 2am. I think that was my fault because earlier that day when Josh and I were taking a walk and there was music playing at a nearby temple, I said more than once: “I’m glad they don’t play music near our house.”