Despite what happened last weekend to most of us here in the U.S., this is not a Daylight Saving post.
Sure, I’m a little fuzzy on what time it is lately, or even what day of the week (or month) it is, but I can’t blame that on Daylight Saving Time, or on spring, or on a Kardashian, much though I would love to shift the blame to any of those.
I blame the fuzziness on having transitioned completely into my true nature: as a night owl.
Due to a perfect storm of events, I’ve had almost no outside responsibilities for the past few weeks (and very few inside ones, either), and it’s starting to show.
Things started out well, and I was living like a normal person. On the first day, I put a large Perdue chicken in the Crock Pot, and after enjoying that first dinner of roast chicken and mashed potatoes, I used the rest of the chicken to make a big pot of homemade chicken noodle soup. I was pretty proud of myself for how responsibly domestic I was being.
Then I bought the first order of Chinese food.
Next came the box of Cap’n Crunch, closely followed by a few Oreos and some Combos (FYI: the pretzel/cheddar cheese ones are the best). All that stuff went so well with binge-watching episodes of Breaking Bad for the umpteenth time.
Once I was nibbling through the second batch of Chinese food a week later—followed by the mint chocolate chip ice cream that had somehow made its way into my Instacart order—I realized I was checking my phone for not just the time, but also the date and the day of the week. Just to be sure.
By this point I was staying up working till 4:00 a.m. most nights. And that’s the part of this situation I’m okay with. I may need to rein in my eating choices (okay, yes, I do need to rein in my eating choices), but my sleep schedule is starting to feel like it should have been like this all along.
This doesn’t surprise me. I’ve known I was a night owl since my teen years. It’s always been difficult to get to school on time or to hold down a typical nine-to-five job. I literally feel queasy when I’m forced to be up, showered, and out in the world in the morning. If you’re a morning person, imagine having to get up around 2 a.m. each day to start your day. That’s how I feel every morning until nearly noon.
For the past decade or two, I’ve been blessed with a freelance schedule, doing all my work from home. I arrange doctor appointments for the afternoon. I don’t agree to meetings with anyone before 2 p.m. I’ve even taught my parents not to stop by or call me until well past 11 a.m., although that took some effort. They’re retired and are required by law to be home before 3 p.m. so they can have dinner at 4 and be in bed by dark. At least that’s what I’ve heard.
On the days when I have to get up at 6 a.m. (a few hours after I’ve crawled into bed) to cook the hubby breakfast before he goes to work, I wave goodbye when he leaves and head back to bed until I get somewhere near seven hours of sleep.
But this freeform sleep/eat schedule will be ending soon. Some of my daily responsibilities will kick back in. I’ll go back to arranging most of my eating and some of my sleep to align with the people around me.
Until then, I’m enjoying letting my body decide when it wants to be awake or asleep, rather than letting society decide for me…
…until I need to go to the bank or the post office, or anywhere else that closes before sundown.