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Good morning, night owl

I’m a confirmed night owl, but my boys’ new swim schedule is going to clip my wings. I’m not even sure an early riser would be happy getting up before four o’clock. Ugh.

The solution is easy right? Go to bed at nine. Or earlier. But here’s the thing about a night person. Nine is when the second wind kicks in. The ideas start flowing, the energy comes back, and suddenly the thought of going to bed is untenable.

I’d be missing out on valuable, productive hours.

I sometimes wish the world operated on my schedule so I didn’t have to shoehorn myself into working—and waking—hours that don’t fit my natural rhythm. I spent plenty of my working life at jobs that started at seven or earlier. I spent seven weeks at Officer Training rising at oh-dark-early for PT.

Occasionally, I even choose to get up at some ungodly hour to work out before a full day, but I don’t think I’ll ever like it.

I’d love to be a disciplined early riser like Thomas Jefferson, though I’d skip the icy foot bath. I love being up in the morning. The soft light of dawn, the cool air, the quiet. My brain even fires on all cylinders quite nicely until fatigue sets in and my brain screams, “Nap!”

It’s getting up early I have a problem with.

But, like it or not, four days a week for the next eleven months, I’m going to have to embrace getting up well before the sun. And then repeat for the next four years.

Sigh.

How about you? Night owl or lark?

Photo credit: OWL © Pdiaz | Dreamstime.com

Diphtheria, tilapia, and peanut butter cups

Today was productive but annoying. Productive on the home front, that is. Not so much on the writing front.

I took my son to get a vaccination he didn't need. Yeah, he was happy, and I was vindicated. I was positive he'd had it, but it wasn't on the shot chart we got from the clinic in Alabama. Unfortunately, he forgot his ID card (partly my fault, of course, since I only reminded him once) and now I have 30 days to bring it in or be charged for a visit for nothing. Jeez.

We did drop off the last bit of packing paper at the recycling center. No more piles in random spots around the house!

We also hit the grocery store for fresh fish for tonight's dinner, along with a few bags of Reese's peanut butter cups. Both very necessary. Unfortunately, we forgot about the grocery bags until three hours later, after a trip to the pool. The candy was salvageable; the fish, not so much. *sigh*

I wish I had a decent excuse for being so scatterbrained today, but I had plenty of sleep last night. Maybe my new plan to go to bed earlier is messing me up. I'm trying to get the boys (and myself) back on a decent schedule before school starts next week. No more late night writing/blogging/reading sessions.

Until I fall off the wagon and stay up till 1am.

Really, maybe I perform better on my night owl schedule, but for now, I'll settle for a few peanut butter cups and hope tomorrow is better.

Looking for worms

Are you a lark or a night owl? Me? I'm a night owl who really wants to be a lark. As much as I'd like to rise with the sun and get working, I just can't do it. I love being up early, but I hate getting up early.

The funny thing is, once I'm up, I'm very productive before lunch. Then my brain usually crashes in the afternoon and starts working again after dinner. Even if I'm tired at eight o'clock, I get a second wind and get some of my best work done before midnight.

My body's natural schedule wouldn't bother me so much if it didn't conflict with the rest of the world. I have to get up early to make sure the kids are getting ready for school, or drive them if they're not riding the bus. My husband is up early for work. In the evening when we could all be hanging out, I'm just getting into the swing of writing again.

I'm starting to learn the best times of day to focus on writing, working out, running errands, and reading emails, so that I can be the most productive. But, I'm struggling with it because it doesn't match up well with the rest of my family's schedule.

What kind of schedule are you on. Are you fighting it, or does it work with the rest of your life?

The Daily Squirrel: rejection

Madison held the crisp paper in her hands, and blinked back tears. Another rejection. With a fat red marker, she scrawled “#159” in large numbers across the paper. Each letter chipped away at her heart, and yet every denial only made her more determined to prove that she could make it as a writer.

If she wasn't good enough now, she'd keep on working at it. Her dad's mocking face flashed across her mind. She'd show him. Her brother invaded with his own taunts. She'd show him too.

She'd met published authors with suitcases full of rejections. They'd earned their success, and she would too. As long as she didn't give up. With firm resolve she sat back in front of her computer. If it took her fifty years, she'd show them all, show the world, show herself, that she could do this.