I’m a night person.
That’s not to say that I’m grumpy in the mornings. Far from it, as the two grumpy-pants sisters I grew up with can attest, as I still wake them up by jumping up and down on their beds when they stay the night.
No, I’m a night person because I’m at my best from 7pm -2am. My liveliest, my most creative. My trouble lies in living in a world that values productivity before nine in the morning. I can work for months to set my inner clock to getting up at six and being in bed by ten, but one cuddly-sleepy Saturday with A and I’m done. Starting from scratch. Scraping together what hours I can because my mind won’t let me sleep until 1am.
On the one hand, I’ve produced some of my best, most creative work at night, and I love the feeling of being up when the world around you is dreaming. But most nights, as the clock counts down to 6am, I wish I could just harness a Night Mare and hitch a ride to dreamland.