I had some “vacation time” this holiday season, and I spent a week of it with my immediate family that live a little bit away. Unfortunately I currently work swing shift hours at work, and so I normally wake up around 1pm. A year or two before I moved out my father has this nasty remark that he likes to say around noon, “Good Morning,” implying that you had just woken up. Of course this means that getting up later isn’t perfect, and not the best that I could be doing, so I would put in a good deal of effort to be to bed in time in order to be up earlier.
So I left to drive home on Christmas Eve at 1am. I had gotten off work early, and made sure not to drink at the bar I was half-dragged to. At five am my cat ran into the wall that for some reason my parents cat would never go into.
At seven my brother sliced into his hand with an exactoknife.
By noon I was drinking with my brother while cooking breakfast since we have nothing in common & the family opened all the Christmas presents since
After having slept a total of 11 hours in the last 3 nights (The last night being zero), I went to bed around six (I believe).
My cats knocked over some bottles which shattered on the ground. Of course, even with glass littered accross the floor and my bed I was not capable of waking up. And even though I woke up briefly I saw the glass, and considered it nonimportant. Even though my cats were in my room with me. How I think when I’m half asleep is very hard to describe. Literally, my desires and interests are manipulated by the sleeping process.
And so for three days I would go to bed at midnight, and wake up at three am to spend the rest of the day awake. I wasn’t really tired, but it put me off.
Then I caved since I get this extra amount of energy around midnight due to the end of shift excitement that is normally around this time, and I slept my normal schedule which left me to get up a good five hours before my family heads off to their own little rooms. Which would have been fine if they go to sleep at this time instead of doing their own thing until two in the morning and then waking up at noon.
I did end up having a better time than I expected that I would, and I even spent a few more days than I had planned to. I have grown very fond of the security of having my own apartment. My own space.
I would say that the trip was not as focused on writing and study as I would have liked, and certainly not comfortable. But I would not say it was a waste of time.