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A friend recently introduced me to Edna St. Vincent Millay’s poetry. Millay has a very short poem, titled “Grown-Up”, which seems an appropriate introduction to this subject:

Was it for this I uttered prayers,

And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs,

That now, domestic as a plate,

I should retire at half-past eight?

I’m not so much of an old lady that I need to go to bed at 8:30 pm, but I can certainly appreciate the sentiment. I’ve slowly come to accept that I just need a lot of sleep in order to function properly during the day. I’ve never been a night person. In college I settled in to going to bed around midnight, which was much later than I’d gone to bed prior to entering college. Now that I’m out in the adult world however, I seem to have lost that ability to get by on seven or seven and half hours of sleep a night. (Yes, I am aware that many college students would be ecstatic to get as many as seven hours of sleep a night.)

Another thing that is odd is the sensation of being excited about going to bed. This is not an entirely new phenomenon, but when one has been staying up later the last week or two in preparations for finals, it makes sense. It makes less sense to me when one is working full-time. Working full-time is more tiring overall though, than I’d thought it would be. I don’t even have a physically demanding job. I work in an office, and at least 80% of my day is spent on the computer.

I have discovered that having a set bed-time means that I notice I’m getting tired even before my bed-time comes. This is possibly an indication that my bed-time should be a little earlier even that what it currently is, but I’m balancing between when I ought to go to bed and when I’d like to be able to go to bed.  Alas, I’ve left this post to the last minute, and I am approaching that witching hour.

Until next time,

I remain,

Agatha Viola

Domestic as a Plate

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