I’ve been forced to examine my sleep habits this week. And I realised that I’ve been doing the very thing I’ve eschewed for as long as I can remember: sleeping in on weekends. I don’t know when exactly or how it happened, but I’ve been allowing myself to stay in bed beyond the regular weekday rising time quite regularly in the last six months or so. This experiment has not yielded good results. But no matter, I’m fixing it. Now.
I read somewhere, a long time ago, that although we think we need the sleep-in, the extra time spent in bed on the weekend actually makes it harder for the body when the work week comes around, as it invariably does.
“Why so early?” is the common refrain, when people hear that you are up before 6:30am on a Saturday or Sunday. I’ve proffered the “sleep-ins are superfluous to the body’s needs” argument before but the non-believers refuse to be converted so I tend to revert to the usual safe, uncontroversial line, “I’m a morning person.” (And smile.)
And it’s true. I love the silence. I love the light as it goes from soft to saturated. I love the sense of optimism that seems to accompany the early morning, the feeling that anything could happen today… and it could be amazing.