I’ve written in the past about being forced to become an early riser. Something I realized today, after two days of having to get up significantly earlier than usual with very little sleep is that I’m actually doing much better about getting up early. I mean, I don’t enjoy it, but once I’m up, I do actually appreciate how nice it is to be up early, particularly when there’s nothing pressing that needs to be done. Sure, I can still sleep until 10 if I get a chance, but at age 33, I’m finally making peace with waking up before 8 (or, like yesterday, before 5), especially if it’s a weekend and I know I can squeeze a nap in in the afternoon.
Posted in Everyday Life