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I am not a fan of mornings.
Given my choice, I would sleep in until about 11 and stay up until at least 2. It's the way I have always been. The world, of course, isn't built to accommodate me. Even when I was freelancing, there were those Darned Kids to get up and out of the house, fed and with lunches and books and whatever notes or carfare or other equipment was required for the day. At which point I would do a protracted internet crawl to start my day, and gradually (around 11) start to be sensible enough to work.
My husband is an early to rise, early to fall over kind of guy. Somehow it has all worked out: I have learned to watch TV to the sound of his snoring (fully dressed and no-I'm-not-awake-what-happened-on-the-show-when-I-wasn't-paying-attention) and he has learned that I am not fully comprehensible first thing in the morning. Although I've learned to fake it.
And now, with the commute to work...I'm getting up at roughly the same time I did before I started my new job, but everything I did before--making lunches, pushing the Eject Button on Avocado in her bed, showering and getting dressed and picking up the kitchen and checking my email and such--has been compressed into about 40 minutes. Maybe an hour if I'm really efficient. Even when A heads off to college, I'll have to get up at about the same time. Caltrain has no sense of humor about these things.
Yesterday I was talking with someone about retirement with someone who had a very elaborate scheme for how to spent her declining years. "How about you?" she asked.
"I'm going to stay up too late and get up too late," I said. It is telling that several of the people in the office nodded as if this made all the sense in the world.
Given my choice, I would sleep in until about 11 and stay up until at least 2. It's the way I have always been. The world, of course, isn't built to accommodate me. Even when I was freelancing, there were those Darned Kids to get up and out of the house, fed and with lunches and books and whatever notes or carfare or other equipment was required for the day. At which point I would do a protracted internet crawl to start my day, and gradually (around 11) start to be sensible enough to work.
My husband is an early to rise, early to fall over kind of guy. Somehow it has all worked out: I have learned to watch TV to the sound of his snoring (fully dressed and no-I'm-not-awake-what-happened-on-the-show-when-I-wasn't-paying-attention) and he has learned that I am not fully comprehensible first thing in the morning. Although I've learned to fake it.
And now, with the commute to work...I'm getting up at roughly the same time I did before I started my new job, but everything I did before--making lunches, pushing the Eject Button on Avocado in her bed, showering and getting dressed and picking up the kitchen and checking my email and such--has been compressed into about 40 minutes. Maybe an hour if I'm really efficient. Even when A heads off to college, I'll have to get up at about the same time. Caltrain has no sense of humor about these things.
Yesterday I was talking with someone about retirement with someone who had a very elaborate scheme for how to spent her declining years. "How about you?" she asked.
"I'm going to stay up too late and get up too late," I said. It is telling that several of the people in the office nodded as if this made all the sense in the world.