Old.

I have the awful habit of stay up until the wee hours of the morning.

I feel like that is my time.  My time to decompress.  My time to watch whatever I want.  My time to drink wine.  My time to have adult conversations without interruption with my night owl friends.

My body is exhausted.

I run on caffeine and pure exhaustion most days.

How I do not have bags under my eyes is beyond me.

I go to sleep between 12am and 2am.

I wake for the day at 6:30am.

I zombie walk to the kitchen and press the large cup button on my Keurig (one of God's greatest inventions AND one of the last gifts I received before Iron Man became a Jehovah's Witness... giving up all holidays).

I barely make it to 7am.

That is when the coffee kicks in and I am READY.

This week I have made it a habit to sleep a little better.

Saturday night I was in bed by 9:30.

Sunday night was a little rough.  I had to watch Emily Thorne kick ass.  I was in bed by 10:30ish.

Monday night was 10ish.

Tuesday night I was in bed when Ryan got home from work.  I think he thought I was sick or something.

Ryan hates when I come to bed super late.  Especially when I come to bed after 12am and turn the TV on.  It drives him up the wall.

I have got to get a hold of my sleeping schedule.  Winter months are coming and with the lack of sleep and germs running rampant, I am going to be sick as a dog.

So, here is to earlier phone calls, friends.... and earlier glasses of wine... and watching TV shows when they actually come on TV...

I just have to accept it and move on.   I am getting old.  See, I can admit it... kind of.