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Night Owl or Morning Lark?

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Originally posted in 2015

hands up

I don’t know about you but for me, one of the least desirable aspects of getting longer in the tooth is lack of sleep. Gone are the nights of 10-hour slumbers like in my teens. In my 20s-30s I often achieved a steady nine hours. In my 40s-50s, eight hours hit the spot. Ah, those were the days.

Now that I’m in my 60s, my snoozing time lasts about as long as an Oliver Stone movie, generally just over three hours. I’m then awake for two, followed by another hour or two of semi-consciousness. I tell ya, if I keep going like this, when I hit 70, the act of a prolonged blink will constitute a nice little nap.

dear 3 a.m

I suppose it doesn’t help that I’m a night owl. Now don’t get me wrong; it’s not my fault. I blame my mom. Like my sister and me, she stayed up well past midnight, needing to force herself to sleep around 2:00 a.m. That doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for a visit from the Sandman, does it?

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Call Me Insane

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Last week I admitted I’ve added yet another cat to my furry four-legged menagerie. Crazy? Let’s go with no. Insane? Possibly. I’ll let you be the judge, even though last week I asked you not to judge me. So I guess what I actually am is a hypocrite.

I had hoped my feeble attempt to tug at your heartstrings would win you over so you’d see I’m a regular person who happens to love animals sometimes more than people. Now don’t get me wrong; mostly I think people are fine and dandy. In fact, I’m quite fond of many of them.

But with my cats and dogs, I love pretty much everything about them — how trusting they are, how excited they get greeting me at the door when I’ve only been gone an hour, how they love me unconditionally and follow me around the house like ducklings trailing their mom. I could go on but I’ll spare you.

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