Too early

I am a night owl.  Always have been. 

Living a simple life seems to carry a lot of emotionally embarrassing baggage.  It is my experience that those who truly live a simple life seem to be so judgmental about the daily habits of what that entails.  And, I can never decide if sharing my thoughts about such aspects of how a life is going along is simple observation or judgment in itself.  I mean, how does one separate the two, or is it even possible to do so?  I just do not know about that aspect, but I do know that I can never figure that out.  Maybe it has something to do with those who husband animals and large-ish crops and have so much responsibility every day.

Anyway, I offered extra time to a client yesterday and we are meeting at the Library at nine o'clock this morning.  I could have slept in for another hour or so, but us night owls need lots of preparation time for early in the day stuff.  I have been up for more than an hour and am finally able to do more than sit and try to stay awake.

A nap later in the day would help, but that is another embarrassing thing to do, much less admit to doing, although I will likely partake of that guilty pleasure anyway, even though I have tons of unfinished stuff around here.  I have not even reached that part of today and am already manifesting my inner slacker.  And, feeling guilty about it, too boot.

I have always wanted to be a morning person.  On the few occasions when I am up early enough to see the day begin, sunrise and all that jazz, I love it.  In the moment, I love it, but I guess not enough to make it a regular enough practice so that it seems more natural to me.

I have always been intrigued with circadian rhythm experiments and thought that I would like to participate in one.  I wish that I had a life that allowed me to find my own rhythms, on my own.  I kind of worry that I would discover that I am a true child of the night, that my nature is to sleep all day long and arise only near dusk.  Maybe I would have to live a life more alone than the one I now have.  Maybe my only human contact would be other owls when I go out for provisions from the 24-hour gas station convenience stores, silently wandering the two or three aisles of cereals, canned soups, snack foods and motor oil and those dangle-y, evergreen-tree-shaped auto air fresheners.

Maybe I need to find other children of the night.  I wonder where they hang out.  I cannot even think of any all-night places, so maybe they just congregate in the park or the parking lot at the mall or the cemeteries.  Or, where?

Or, maybe I live in the wrong latitude and should have been born (or move to) another hemisphere.  Maybe I am the classic lost zygote.

I am either not living according to my natural needs or I am emotionally or intellectually fighting against my own best interests in my struggles to avoid the dawn.  I guess that after more than six decades of messing around with this that I should have come to some, oh, I do not know, perhaps some kind of uneasy, but doable, peace about this.

Well, I had better finish my breakfast, and get ready for the day.  Lordy.