If I could, I would so be sleeping in right now. My children are too young to appreciate the joy of sleeping late. Little kids are always up at the crack of dawn.
It’s okay, I was awake at 6:00, anyway. Being on a 7 a.m. work schedule five days a week has probably conditioned me to wake up early.
I used to be a night owl, especially in college. I’d stay up until 3 a.m. and sleep in until 11. I often registered for classes based on their later times.
Freshman year I had to take Introductory Psychology, though, and there was only an 8 a.m. lecture. So I’d roll out of bed 10 minutes before start time, drag my butt to class, and for some reason, sit in the first row of 500 students. Then I’d start nodding off, my notes would become illegible and drop off the page. One day the professor actually held up my arm and shouted, “We have a pulse!” Needless to say, I didn’t do as well as I should have in that course.
It’s too bad because I’ve always been fascinated with psychology, what drives people, and why they behave as they do. At band practice some days (I played the flute from 4th through 9th grade) in high school, I used to “forget” my instrument at home so I could spend the entire period reading my friend Samantha’s psychology textbook. She was a senior, and psychology wasn’t offered to freshmen. I would’ve taken psych the following year, but I transferred to St. Mary’s in 10th grade, where it wasn’t offered at all.
Then I thought I might major in psych when I got to college, but by the end of my first semester at UNH, I had professors urging me to major in English, which is great for becoming a writer, but not much else. And becoming a writer is wonderful if you can make good money at it, but I have yet to do that.
Well, now that I’ve bummed myself out, what’s next? Finish this post, play catch with Aislyn, clean the bathrooms (yuck)? We still don’t really do much on the weekends right now because of COVID. Desmond is half-vaccinated and Aislyn isn’t at all. But Desmond starts basketball today for the first time in two years, and he’s excited. So I’m happy for him.
Poor Aislyn is still basically quarantined. I guess if I had been trapped inside for going on two years, I’d be rebellious, too.