About seven years ago (this is the only reason what discomforts me about aging--too many memories) I lived in the renovated attic of a 100 year old house that was slipping off it's foundation. It was a student-whore house (storey st/stoney st). We were all in college, will full days on our agenda and a mission to party at nights or weekends.
The point of this memory is coming. Most of us had early days, or early mornings deadlines due to procrastination.
By 6 or 7 PM, after a day, there was no way I could really spend more time on studying. I would force myself to stay awake until 8 PM, a time which I determined that although early, sounded reasonable. (7PM is a bedtime for babies, was my rationale)
At 7:45 PM I would be waiting for bed, knowing of a fresh start in the morning meant fresh brain activity.
Okay, the point of this memory is that, Now as a 27 year old, I go to bed earlier than my parents and sometimes grandparents. I guess this is why I am up at 7:30 AM writing a blog, which I would have never written at 9PM the night before.
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