The Morning Person's Lament
Image credit: https://www.pexels.com/@abhiram2244
Recently, I joined a few friends in showing some out-of-towners the nightlife in Houston.
I'm glad I had a nap beforehand.
Once upon a time, I stayed up late to find the deep-quiet time of night when almost everyone sleeps. Unfortunately, that time of night doesn't arrive until after 2 a.m. I'd say 3 a.m. is its official advent. And that's far too late for a working person to stay up until and still function in the office the next day.
At some point, I realized that I could get up only a few hours earlier than normal—rather than staying up many, many hours after I should—and find the same deep quiet.
In the process, I've rather cottoned to the life of a morning person:
Alert: I'm much more alert at the start of the official workday after having exercised, walked the dog, and eaten a healthful morning meal.
Happy belly: Waking up early means I have a real breakfast—my favorite meal of the day.
Productive: Before the official workday begins, I tackle an immense portion of my to-do list. No interruptions, no ambient distractions, no e-mail piling up. Just accomplishment. It's a right-foot starting of the day.
Peace: Dawn is a quieter, more meditative time than sunset. Sunset is an end—and you're rarely at peace to appreciate it. Dawn is a beginning.
Positivity and promise: As Roxana Robinson wrote in The New Yorker, the morning is a return from somewhere else--not the stub end of an eventful day. The day ahead is full of possibility.
Unfortunately, the world is biased against morning folk. How many wonderful things happen in the dark of night!
Live music: The worthwhile stuff, anyway.
Dancing: I don't really dance, but hey—maybe I would if I had more opportunity.
Swanky dinners: If you reach a fancy restaurant for a luxurious meal at 7:30, there's no way you'll be out of there before 10. I'm lucky if I can stave off desperate hunger until 7.
Parties: With a nap, I can get through most Saturday-night shindigs. But if your event is on a weeknight—even a Friday—I wither before the fun starts.
Maybe we could start a morning-people movement. I don't see why we can’t make a 6 p.m. dinner swanky. And what's wrong with dancing or live music—or both—at 2 p.m.? (This would be a significant lifestyle improvement for musicians.) And parties? Seems like brunch, lunch, and afternoon gatherings are quite lovely.
Besides, as my friend Troy has said on more than one occasion,
"Nothing good happens after midnight."