What goes great with a hot, steaming plate of spaghetti? A nice, cold glass of wine.
What goes well with a couple of hours at the end of the day to write in peace? Not a glass of wine.
Darn it!
I've realized during the past few weeks that my age (I'll be 36 in September) is catching up with me, physically anyway. I used to be able to go to sleep at 11 p.m. and wake up at 4:30 a.m. to go to the gym. Clearly, I can't do that anymore.
I wake up at 4:30, get to the gym at 5 a.m. and have a great burst of energy to get me through until, oh, about lunch time. Then my body starts to tell my brain, "Hey, fool, you can't get up at 4:30 if you're going to go to bed at 11 p.m. We need more sleep than that!"
So, I have another little burst of energy while I make dinner and coach my son through eating his meal. Then, after his bath, we sit in the rocking chair in his room and read half a dozen books before he goes to sleep ... and that's when I start to nod off too. Right around 8:30. Arg!
I think I have a solution: I have a new job and I'll be working from home. That means I don't have to get up at the crack of dawn to exercise, because I don't have to commute to work. And, hopefully, that means I'll have more time to exercise without squeezing it in to the start of my day. And then I'll be awake enough to write at night. Right? Let's hope so.
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