Of all the arguments I have with Mrs G (which are not that many) the topic of complaint that crops up most often is going to bed. We have similar tastes in food and TV, we have a set of ethics and morals that are well aligned, we like doing the same things. Get us in the bedroom though late at night and it becomes a battlezone.
The main issue is that my wanting to turn the lights off pre-11pm means that I’m not a night owl like my wife. This is patently nonsense, I’m as much a night owl as the next red-eyed fellow, as my issue with going to sleep is not related to my personal preference for a bedtime but to pure biology.
My morning alarm call is dictated by what time we need to go to work, for us this means leaving the house at 7am, so there is the whole morning routine to complete. I have tried to make it as efficient as possible by preparing the morning coffee the night before, having lunches ready and not caring what I wear and just grabbing anything from the wardrobe. To give myself that little more time I even skip breakfast until I am at my desk so I can have a few more minutes.
It still doesn’t seem enough.
I have managed to get the process down to 35 minutes, and that is both for me and The Feliciraptor to be ready (heaven knows what it will be like if we through another child in the mix). Still I don’t feel like I sleep long enough and all I’m longing for are seven hours. Continue reading “I am a night owl”