In the Midnight Hour

I am an incorrigible night owl.

For reasons unbeknownst to me, I somehow managed to handle 5am alarm clocks in high school. What the fetch...? What on earth possessed me to get up that early, a good hour and a half before I had to leave for school? Was it all that time I spent crimping my hair? And I'm talking full-on zig-zag crimping. Don't talk to me about the fact that no, I didn't go to high school in the 80s, but yes, I did crimp my hair obsessively. While we're at it please don't bring up the puka shell necklaces or various jewelry I crafted out of safety pins and guitar picks. (Note: I didn't even start playing the guitar until the very end of high school, but I guess a punk heart can't be denied at any age.) #imtotallyfullofit (Also, did you know puka was spelled like that? I thought it was pooka. The correct way looks like puke-ah.)

I digress.

What I'm getting at is, mornings aren't natural for me, motivated by crimping potential or not. (I now want "crimping potential" to be a for reals thing.) In my ideal world, we'd all wander into work around 10:30 or 11am after a leisurely morning of important things like lounging in bed, catching up on phone calls (but only with people who have earned the right to hear my phlegmy morning voice and retainer-induced speech impediment), actually eating breakfast, standing under the shower water in a trance for at least a quarter of an hour, staring blankly at the wall and pondering the universe while wrapped in a towel and avoiding putting pants on...like I said, all the most important morning activities. After a few hours of work, there'd be a nap. And then more work. And then a break for evening activities. And a lot of meals and snacks worked in there.

And later, if you're me, you'd choose between a) mind-numbing bonding with Netflix, b) reading a book you'll finish in 2 days but still manage to hoard for 6 months until the library sends the collections agency after you, or c) doing more work as the hour pushes midnight. (Or, you write rambling blog posts and email your roommate, who is away on vacation, about the spider and the moth you saw in the house earlier. *cough*) (OK technically the moth was outside the window, but I really didn't appreciate the way he was looking at me.)

Because the truth is, my brain juices extremely well around the midnight hour.

I can't even tell you how many freelance writing assignments I've finished as the clock creeps past 1am. I swear I can accomplish as much writing in 30 minutes late at night as I can in 2 hours before the hour of 11:30am. But people keep rehiring me for more work, so my methods must be panning out well.

So yeah. I'm incurably nocturnal. Like a.....bat. Or a sloth? I'm actually not entirely sure I know which animals are nocturnal after all. But I feel good about bats, because come on....this dude's got crimping potential. (I just made that weird.)

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I apologize that this post makes little sense. Welcome to my midnight hour.

Oh, go enter my giveaway so we can be twinners with great shirts. Giddyup!