I write in bed, on my phone. It’s five in the morning, and I’m so very awake. This often happens to me, for precisely an hour around four and five.
I sort of want to get up. I’m a great morning person – I love early mornings, and can get five times the stuff of an afternoon into them – but tomorrow (today) is a day off, and I don’t think it’s worth the hassle of being hungry and tired at the wrong times of day. I also plan on getting up earlier and going to bed earlier in the near future and don’t want to waste what seems as if it’s the last night of the holidays by getting up at stupid o’clock.
Still, I’ve had cause to think of a few things I haven’t yet done and could be doing – lovely things I haven’t let myself do because I so want to do them – and now I have swimming brain. Further, I can’t even read until super sleepy again because the light on my kindle case is broken and I refuse to get a new kindle with a light inside it because I think the old version of it is just perfect.
I can hear the early rumblings of the main road gathering, and it’s still completely, richly dark. Do I get up? Do I eat, read, write, run?
I’ll try to sleep a little longer. I’ve only had a couple of hours so far. I should try harder. When I was a teenager, supposedly in need of all the sleep, I often did fine on two or three hours a night. At uni, I regularly slept twice a day, between four and six in the afternoon and two and five in the morning. I always did any essays I had in the early morning, and refused to revise for exams before four a.m. the night before them.
I love the early morning and the temptation is strong. Now I’ve emptied a bit of nothing from my brain, I’ll give going back to sleep one more go. Although I’m already hungry…but no! I must try to sleep at the sleeping time. It’s been an hour. Goodnight!