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.