Night Owl Syndrome
First published in the print column, Strictly Haresay
With spring upon us—though I don’t think Old Man Winter got the memo yet—the way my house is positioned, and the placement of my bedroom within the floor plan, makes it so the early morning sun shines perfectly upon the headboard of my bed each day (read: in my eyes). This makes sleeping in impossible, though also at this time of year, my circadian rhythm seems to slip a cog or two, as well, (or maybe it’s jumping ahead) making me want to rise earlier than I ever could have in those dark months of December and January. All of which make for a rather inconvenient set up for staying up late—something I’ve always liked to do, and during which time, I’ve done much of my writing. (It’s 11:22 P.M. as I type this—an early start.)
To be fair, I cannot claim this penchant for midnight musings to be borne of habit alone. I’m convinced it’s a hereditary condition. My grandmother (the one who just turned 101 last December) can always be counted on to pick up a call at 1:00 A.M. I’ve enjoyed many late night (early morning) conversations with her, each of us sitting down with a cup of tea to have a nice long chat, though often times hundreds of miles divided us. Very much a kindred spirit to me in this and many other regards, my grandmother, too, knows the challenges of living with the affliction of night owl syndrome—an incurable condition which is ever more pronounced when living in an agricultural region, where “getting up with the chickens” is more than just a cute turn of phrase. And like my grandmother, I’ve had plenty of years living by the clock of the majority—up with the sunrise, half a day’s work in by 10 A.M. But that’s not the schedule that comes natural to me, though I’ve had many occasion to wish that it did.
As challenging as it is to function against one’s own natural rhythms, what makes it worse yet is the prejudice one must endure because of it. Somewhere, somehow, someone decided that being productive early in the day is more virtuous than being productive in the later part of the day, or into the night.
My grandmother once told me the story of just such a “virtuous” neighbor who used to call and wake her at 5:00 A.M. (spoken: Oh! Did I wake you? unspoken: How lazy can you get?) just to tell her of all the things she’d already accomplished, and how wonderful it was to get so much done, so early in the day. This went on for a few weeks until finally my grandmother had had enough of the woman’s superior virtuousness. My grandmother waited until midnight, when she was just hitting her stride with getting the housework done, then phoned her neighbor, (Oh! Did I wake you!?) and then proceeded to regale her with all the wonderful advantages there are to staying up late and working while everyone else is in bed (implied: lazy people).
And much the same as my grandmother experienced, I am now at a time in my life—my kids are grown, I no longer have farm chores to attend to—when I can live (mostly) by my own internal clock, and it’s a wonderful thing.
So if you come by to visit and I’m still in my robe at 10 A.M, don’t be alarmed. But if you are alarmed, don’t judge, or you may very well get a call from me at 2 A.M. just to explore the meaning of life, or any other topic a virtuous person such as yourself might entertain.
