So last night I made a choice about staying up too late.
It was fun staying up late. I chatted with my friend, we sang hymns with enough people for a four part harmony (despite the fact that three of of were girls), and then Kyle and I stayed up with youngest SIL chatting until Kyle looked at his watch and said, “Um…it’s about 4 am. We should probably go to bed.” I had known it was late, but really? 4 am? Youngest SIL said that it was like a sleep over.
I haven’t seen 4 am since…since…high school? Waking up at the butt-crack of dawn to cook Valley Chicken for a fund raiser? I became a boring married person for a reason! I like my sleep! I thrive on routine and a regular sleep pattern–it’s good for my soul. I enjoy never getting up earlier than 7 am, and never staying up much past midnight. It makes for a not cranky Eliza, and I personally rather enjoy being a not cranky Eliza.
I’d like to think Kyle enjoys me being a not cranky Eliza, too, but I’ll put that statement on hold until I have further confirmation.
I don’t regret why I stayed up late, but it did make me a zombie today.
Beware, the apocalypse cometh. And it begins with sleep deprivation. (Dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun.)