The evening of a night owl

I blog about it again, sorry if I repeat myself. So yes, as a foreword, for those who don't know it already (in case I had new readers, you never know): I am a night owl. I do not live like one anymore, except on weekends and holidays, but I am at heart and by nature. It is in my biological clock, in my temperament, my psychology, what have you. But I wake up early every morning and I work hard all day.

I am still not used to it. I mean really not. I stay awake and everything, but often feel zombies and out of place, or rather out of time. I came back from work today with a strange feeling: I was ready to collapse and fall asleep. If I hadn't been so hungry I would have had. But I ate, my head almost in my plate. Okay I am exagerating, I was not so ready to collapse. But I was sore and tired. I am sore and tired. Yet as I am writing this I am not in bed yet, I have indeed been postponing it. There are just so many things left to do, and I often have the feeling that night time is the only time one has to do them, and appreciate them. Reading, writing, blogging, it's just easier to do at night. No matter how tired I am, I am not eager to go to bed. On the plus side, I do not have much insomnia anymore. When I lie down, I sleep.