I woke up tired. I always wake up sleepy--I'm loath to give up the sweet surcease of sleep any morning. But being an enthusiastic, sound sleeper, I rarely wake up tired. It just takes me awhile and a cup of something to jolt me totally awake. I usually manage by lunch. But last night-- Maybe it was that half-glass of merlot I had with dinner. Something in a red dances with something in my brain, then drains into my bones, rendering them useless. Not normally one to nap, that merlot set me up for losing a half-hour of the evening somewhere. Which probably got my sleep cycle all screwed up.
But a few chores and some reading, then some Facebooking and surfing got my head on straight and I didn't feel too off-kilter. Then I decided to have some fun, where fun means working on some writing. Just messing around. Except it was way fun, and kind of, well, stimulating. I made myself quit by 11, being a working kind of girl. At which time my body was ready for bed, but my brain was not.
How nimbly the mind moves at night! How insightful did I become, there in the dark, peeking now and then at the clock, where the hours that are so familiar to me in the afternoon--1:00, 2:00--became something interesting to explore, here on the tired, unfamiliar side of midnight. And what a paradox--even I as knew I should sleep, that I would pay for this alertness at alarm time--that "gleaning my teeming brain" was almost ... enjoyable. That I was almost following myself around my head.
Perhaps something in the freedom of the hours--indeed, this time set apart not for work nor chores nor socializing, just sleep, merely sleep--was enticing.
Or perhaps the bit of merlot made things seem better than they were.
Eventually, my brain caught up with my body, and thoughts turned to dreams.
Leading me eventually to, the tired side of morning!