Night Owls and Early Birds

I have always been an early bird, enjoying the quiet freshness of a new day with all of it's possibilities. Not that I ever took much time to think about possibilities, just that I enjoyed the flavours they gave to the early morning hours. This meant I couldn't soar with the night owls though, and I knew I was missing something there; the music and parties I saw other's enjoying were beyond me. But we are what we are and while I never much hunted for worms I did enjoy sunrises, and quiet hours in which to putter. That is until we met Hal (Poodle's word for computers - I think I have mentioned this before) and all of a sudden the morning became about sliding in front of a screen and having those precious morning hours sucked away.

Lately I have lost even that, the joy of mindless surfing, browsing, chatting and farming has somehow dropped away and like all new toys the glamour has faded. I wake now and turn over to burrow back into a warm bed, seeking the oblivion of sleep. I feel like my body is no longer my own, filled with lead and such a burden to drag around it's much easier to just...not. I think I spent three hours last evening sitting watching first the Golden Globe awards and then my favorite Sunday night show. I was in bed by 9ish, and this morning at 6ish I lay in bed knowing it was too late to turn over, that I needed to get up for work. One would think 9 hours of sleep sufficient to the day, but apparently not.

I miss waking up and ready to greet the day. I miss my beautiful morning hours. I miss me.

After Joey died I found that the combination of having online farming at my fingertips and an audio book plugged in at my ears I could disappear for a bit. And if I wasn't farming I still  had the book on while I did my chores.  It kept me going, kept my brain from obsessing on the morbid so I could move my feet. But over the holidays I never made it to the Library and my Christmas decorations are still strewn about the house waiting to be packed away. Ugh. In my defense I have begun, but all the small hand movements really irritate my back and I can only do so much before I punk out - hence the 3 hours on the couch last night and the whining about it this morning.

Crazy to spend my morning hours whining instead of...well, instead of anything else really. My idea this morning wasn't to explain how deep and wide my pity pool is, but rather to write a little something about ...and I just hit a brick wall. Because I refuse to go on about good intentions and I can't dwell on how far I have once again fallen.  I think I have already written the most important thing anyway - - - I miss me. I want me back.