As if in rehearsal for the week ahead, I woke up before 7 this morning for the first time since Tuesday. It was a weekday awakening, despite it still being the weekend: this sudden, complete jolt of Now you are awake. No yawning, slowly coming out of sleep; just BAM and there I was, lying there and knowing that I should probably be doing something productive or close to it.
This kind of morning guilt feels better in the summer, when you can wake up at 6:45 and at least it’s light out. Right now, it’s pitch black and entirely still outside. The idea that I’ve missed anything, or should be doing something, feels that much more like a neurosis in winter.