My second night in Zone 3- it's all about timing

Last spring Atlanta experienced one of it's wild wind storms, and a giant oak tree fell over the neighbor's yard, flattening their car like a pancake in the process.  Just as we were heading to bed on night two, we hear what sounds like chainsawing, coming from the neighbor's yard.  Obviously no one in their right mind would be operating a chainsaw at 11 pm on a Wednesday, right?  Wrong.  The neighbors were cutting up logs, with floodlights illuminating them. 

Matt warned me that everyone in the south gets up late and stays up late.  The tanning salon doesn't open until 11 am, and good luck getting anything done on a Sunday, when most stores just close up shop.  I didn't really believe him.  I figured I can stick to my usual schedule of getting up around 8 am, and getting out the door to accomplish any errands by 9 am.  I now concede the fact that there really is no point in getting up at eight, nine is better. And leaving the house around eleven assures that most stores will be open and I won't spend 20 minutes waiting in my car.  I figure it's a good thing I can now be at peace with sleeping in, especially when I'm up until 12:30 am listening to the soothing sounds of the neighbor's STIHL.

Ado