For some people, every morning is exciting. For some people, when their eyes open in the morning, they realize that they can get up right now and get an early start on the day. They can start the day right. They get a little jolt of excitement.
I am not one of these people, but I wonder if I could be. I am not entirely unfamiliar with the sense of satisfaction that comes from proactively pursuing some quality of life. Typically, however, I'm not so energetic. When I first open my eyes in the morning, I'm overwhelmed with tiredness, and my main thought is of how much longer I can sleep without creating a crisis.
In truth, I am not a late sleeper. I'm not a person who could, if I had nothing to do, lay in bed all Saturday and sleep. That would make me feel awful or depressed. I can, and do, get up with no pain whatsoever after eight o'clock. On weekdays, however, when the alarm goes off at four forty-five or five o'clock, I get up with dread and resentment.
Late nights have always been my refuge. They are the time when no one expects anything from me and I can truly relax. I have always been loathe to abandon this time and go to bed early. Now that I'm commuting on the train for two to three hours a day, however, I have this time to write and read and think. I could even draw, I suppose, if I brought my pencils and sketch pad. With this luxury, I'm almost willing to head to bed at nine thirty or ten o'clock each night, to make the morning less painful. Almost. Old habits die hard.
Well, anyway, I'm just thinking out loud (actually, since I'm typing, it's more visible than audible). What about you? Early to bed? Early to rise? Do you sleep five hours? Twelve? Love the morning? Hate it? I'd love to hear your opinion.
Later. Love.
