Turning off the TV at night is one of the hardest "adulting" tasks for me. I know I shouldn't even turn the TV on in the bedroom, but it helps me deal with the drudgery of folding towels.
The good stuff on PBS always comes on late. Last night I tuned in halfway through an "Arts in Context" episode called "Home", about artists exploring details of African diaspora (I had to look up the definition of "diaspora"--"The dispersion of any people from their original homeland.") My drowsy eyes and ears were drawn to the photographs, poetry, and expressive interviews, not that I can recall more than a detail or two this morning.
I was momentarily jolted by my husband's coming to bed, realizing it was beyond eleven o'clock, an hour past my preferred bedtime. I clicked off the TV, took off my glasses, and hoped for a deep, if short, night's sleep.
I got up with the second alarm just before four thirty a.m. Bathroom, scale, changing into workout clothes, making coffee and emptying the dishwasher all happened in order. I read my three little "daily" books, got my coffee, and settled in to write this post.
I'm anticipating that without a steady stream of caffeine and water today, I will hit a wall sometime around two p.m. The majority of my classes will be done by then, thank goodness. I will put the TV remote on my husband's nightstand, too--one less distraction before a decent bedtime...I hope.