I am a creature of momentum, and frankly, it makes life really difficult. I suppose, to a degree, everyone has this problem, and I know I’m not alone in this difficulty. It’s the reason that kids throw a tantrum when they have to change activities. It’s why binge-watching has become how people consume television programs. It’s why gamers will sit down and intend to play for one level or just this one quest, and then get up hours later only thanks to the demands of biology. It’s why knitters lie and say ‘just one more row’ or bookworms claim they’re only reading till the end of the chapter. Once you’re doing something, it’s so much easier and more satisfying to just keep doing that thing pretty much forever.
Still, most people are capable of getting their butts up at the end of lunch or a break or when they finish the one task they need to complete, in order to move on to the next thing they need to attend do. Turning off the TV and going to start dinner doesn’t feel like an impossibly difficult thing for most normal folks, and ordinarily, I’m able to manage to force myself to get into the kitchen and feed myself and my family.
It’s just my circumstances right now that are really messing with me. My sleeping habits are not the greatest, as you’re aware by now. Added to that, the dark peacefulness of the small hours of the night are the only quiet I really get to myself. But this translates into not waking up before The Boy does, not that it’d be easy to do that anyway. Kid’s up at almost 5 am daily and has been since birth.
So, he gets up and plays in his room, often with a Nintendo DS or the Switch, but there’s Legos and robots and other things to amuse him as well. Then my husband gets up and gets through his morning routine to get ready for work, and then… well, lately I sleep through all of that. I’ll wake up when my alarm goes off at quarter till nine. Now, it’s not an alarm I set to get me out of bed. It’s an alarm I set to remind me to keep a record of something at nearly the same time every day. It’s a business thing. And for the past month, I’ve managed to almost sleep right through it.
So the day is already off to a poor start. Instead of getting up and being ready to leave the house with my husband like I’m supposed to, to walk with The Boy to the market and get the day’s groceries (which was working really well for a while!) we’re lucky to leave the house at all. I’m in pajamas most weekdays, much to the amusement of a couple of delivery guys who’ve been by.
It’s a struggle that I’m trying to break free of, and my body hasn’t been helping with the back-to-back colds I’ve had in the last few weeks. The bright side of this is, though, that if I can start writing in the morning like I have the past few days, I can bang out a pretty respectable word count by bedtime. Which means that I’m making headway on short stories, and on a few other projects. So there is a small glimmer of light at the end of this tunnel. I just hope I can shift my habits around a bit and get some more positive momentum going.
After all, the holidays are coming, and nothing wreaks more havoc on a routine than December.