Interval

There is this period of time immediately following our emergence from the oblivion of sleep. We all go through it. The length of it varies depending on a number of factors, but I think we all experience some amount of time in the morning during which we contemplate just going back to bed. I know I face this about every day, particularly if I have been up late the night before and doubly so if I have no concrete engagements.

As I write this, I think of this morning. I woke up at 9 o'clock as directed by my alarm, now not terribly refreshed by some six hours of sleep. They say that eight hours are what you need, but I know I don't really feel recharged with anything short of ten to twelve hours, and you can imagine that such a thorough sleep is difficult to block out in my schedule. In any case, I was in a precarious position on this fine morrow.

I think I did remarkably well. I certainly did consider abandoning the plans I had for mid-day in order to focus on what lay ahead in the evening. I could not say really that it would have been a worthwhile re-dedication of my time and energy. Instead of going out for Toastmasters, I would likely have stayed in and perhaps watched a movie. I probably would have been instantly remorseful, and this negative state of mind would have built up steam hour by hour all the way to my improv comedy performance of the evening.

I fought the good fight against my urge to sleep in and stay home most of the day, and on this occasion I triumphed. I would say that the battle transpired over the course of some seven or eight minutes. I give full credit to my phone, which I check for any urgent overnight matters every morning. I usually then consult my generic Scrabble application, and if sufficiently stimulated by the games in which it is my turn, I just have to get up. Today I got up. I'm pleased by what I managed to achieve out of bed as measured against what I would have imagined achieving in my dreams had I remained in bed.