Getting Old

The quick approach of my natal date should probably be the best indicator of my advancing years, but, honestly, the biggest sign of my age has been my inability to stay up at night.

I have been a night owl my entire life. If you ask my mother, she will assure you that I was a night owl even in the womb.

But somewhere along the way of my having a real job, and being forced into conforming the waking hours of the rest of the US population….I’ve completely lost my ability to stay up late. In my more spry years, I made it through school days requiring me to conform to the hours of sun and then easily slid into my preferred night-time active period on weekends. My parents stopped enforcing my bedtime on Saturday and Sunday when I was 8. They’d got to bed after 20/20 on Friday night and then I stayed up for hours on end watching Rogers and Hammerstein musicals and playing with Barbies.

Now, well, ask Kristy. While she visited over Thanksgiving, I was falling asleep while trying to watch simple prime time TV. The exhaustion keeps creeping in earlier and while I look forward to the freedom of staying up late on Friday and Saturday….looking forward to it is all I can do. As I sit here typing this at 11:30 on a Friday, I should be just starting an evening of movie watching, reading, writing….and instead I’m yawning and struggling to keep my typos to a minimum. As soon as I hit Publish on this, I’m going to crawl up to my room and hit the hay.

This depresses me. Are my days of quiet nights going about my business while the rest of the world sleeps, done for? By this time next year, will I be able to keep my eyes open past the 6pm news?

Addendum: Apparently, I dozed off before I actually hit publish last night because this evening when I went to the site to see what kind of whackiness Kristy had provided? I saw Kristy’s Thursday Time Vamp at the top of the page. So I hit re-fresh. Same thing.

Shit. How old AM I????

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