I had one of those nights last night. I slept like the dead until around 4:00 this morning, then–well, I didn’t sleep for a long while. Nights like that color the following day, because once I do get back to sleep, I tend to oversleep and that makes me groggy and it’s even harder to wake up than normal.
I’m not a morning person. Never have been. I like the night, when it’s quiet and often the only sound I hear is the soft turning of another page as I lie reading in bed–no reading devices for me, thanks, I like the tactile sensations of a real book–and my cat snoring away in her chair a few feet away.
Mornings for me are slow affairs. Coffee and email and some yogurt start my day, with maybe some knitting thrown in, and a gradual building of energy until I’m ready to fully face the day. I avoid talking to anyone if I possibly can until I’m good and ready to, particularly those chipper types who spring out of bed with a song in their hearts and stuff they’ve just got to tell you. I once worked with a woman who would sing at me when I walked into the room and I wanted to smack her so bad. Repeatedly.
I’ll take a gorgeous sunset over sunrise any day. All that light first thing just hurts me. I see the irony in that statement, because I do thrive on light. I need it to feel good, mentally and physically. But first thing? That’s just way too early.