The nights have slipped into a lightly destructive pattern. For years, there was a great deal of discipline in going to bed at 10:00 and waking up at 6:00 the next morning and feeling human. Lately, the bedtime has become later, the morning alarm has been shifted 15 minutes later, and the snooze button is hit once, sometimes twice.
For the past several months, it’s 10:20 before I have begun to clean my face and teeth and change for bed, which is usually followed by Duolingo lessons, and scrolling through social media. Suddenly, it’s 11:30 and time for the late-night calculations of how much sleep I could potentially enjoy if I fell asleep right that minute.
Monday night followed the new pattern and today, despite the regular levels of lots of coffee, I dragged myself through the day. My eyelids felt heavy and baggy, like they were carrying a full load of coordinated luggage. My eyeballs felt like the cartoon characters that have the spinning pinwheels for eyes. There was a debate about maybe being hungry instead of tired, which was followed by eating everything in sight to test the theory.
Rice and salsa and stuff. |
Nope, I was even more tired, but I was feeling nice and bloated for Fat Tuesday. Maybe tonight I can get to bed and turn off the phone and shut down my brain at a more reasonable hour. Fingers crossed. Wish me luck.
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