I’ ve changed my sleeping pattern. Kind of sort of by accident.
I now go to bed earlier than I have since I had a bedtime curfew. Doing so causes me to wake around 3 … surrounded in darkness except for a tiny range light left on in the kitchen.
Do you know what happens at 3am in an old house? Why, that’s when rascal monsters cast long shadows as they bend away at floorboards and scratch glass on cottage windows.
I’ve been an adult for some time now, but that doesn’t matter when it comes to my imagination. And house noises freak me out, which has me wondering nightly why I don’t have a companion dog. So I read ’til my eyes close and head off for round two of dreams ’til it’s time to wake for work or realise it is the weekend.
I have zero clue why I am doing this to myself. I wish it would stop because this habit is making me unrefreshed, mentally distant and a wee bit grumpy. All unwarranted in a world as simple as mine.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had to force myself to stay up, but that is literally going to be the only way to reverse this trend.
Ah, me. I am a strange bird.
On a side note. I am back to England the second week of December. I shall work and play from there for 9ish days, and am beyond looking forward to going back.
Autumn to Winter is my favourite time of year. And England holds a special place in my soul. And as my Mum said yesterday: It’s going to be cold and overcast, but you like that sort of weather.
I do. I really really do. Cold and overcast is why the world invented toasty boots and padded jackets, two additional things I enjoy. String those factors altogether and it’s like winning the lottery in my world.
But mostly, weather aside, it’s the people and it’s the place that warms me to my core … so it is always a better day when I can be home again, in England.