I suffer from oversleep.
No. Don’t laugh. Don’t snort. Don’t scoff.
I really do.
I’m not a morning person at all. I hate mornings.
I don’t hate the actual morningness of the morning. Morning is special. Morning is magical. Seeing the world while it’s still dark, watching the sun come up, listening to every bird under that sun sing its heart out – that’s amazing.
It’s the waking up part I don’t get along with.
It hurts. It’s so much easier to stay put. You know the story. You wake up and there’s nowhere you have to be so maybe you’ll stay in bed just a little while longer.
And longer.
Zzzzzzzz.
And lo and behold it’s nearly midday. Half the morning’s gone. And you’ve had twelve hours sleep, and now you feel so groggy and exhausted from sleeping too much, that hell, you want to go back to bed again.
Then the headache comes on. Your sinuses are protesting, you’re dehydrated. And you can’t do anything for the whole day because you just can’t shake off that feeling of tiredness and the pain between your eyes.
Days off are bad for me. Very, very bad. I should never be allowed to have days off.
I think my body runs on a twenty-eight hour clock. On average, it takes about two days for my sleep pattern to get completely screwed up, be waking up at noon and falling asleep around dawn.
I just don’t know when to stop. When to put down the book, or the pen, or switch off the computer. I’m an insomniacal freak. My brain is always ticking over, and it’s usually the fault of some piece of technology. I’m a victim of the modern world.
But saying that, I think even if I was a neanderthal, I’d probably still be up late, sitting by the camp fire tying knots and sewing hides and annoying the hell out of everyone else. I’m just a night person at heart.
Besides, it’s only 2 AM right now. I can get a couple more hours work in. Hell, I don’t have to be anywhere tomorrow.
