There are people amongst us who go to bed at 9 p.m.

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I have always marveled at these strange people.   I seem to catch a 2nd, 3rd, and 4th wind after dinner.  I can't imagine being able to physically fall asleep at 9 p.m.

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When I was self-employed for most of my working career, this was not a problem.  Now that I am not as flexible with my own hours, I need to get to bed at a decent time.  This usually translates to somewhere around 10:30 which translates to never sleeping 8 hours on a week night which translates to dragging through my afternoons.

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This week in particular, I was <em>exhausted</em>.

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First of all, I am nearly half-way through my <a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/365-or-bust/" target="_blank"><strong>365 project</strong></a>.  Everyone's first question when they hear about the project is, "HOW can you keep up with that?"

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I'm not sure how, but I do.  And sometimes I get really, <em>really </em>tired.

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<span style="font-size: medium; color: #008000;"><strong>Secondly,  I stayed up late a few evenings this week with Mr. Tall Drink of Water.  I can't think of a better reason for feeling tired the next day, but...</strong></span>

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On Day 179, I was so bone-numbingly tired, that I arrived home from work and realized that I forgot (and then quickly remembered, thankfully), to live my "blog day".  In fact, I had no recollection whatsoever as to what soul-scintillating activity I was to "live" on this day.

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I ran to my Franklin-Covey planner in a panic.  (Yes, I still have one, and I'm holding on to it for dear life.)

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My entry for the day was actually something quite easy which I could have injected into my evening routine for a bit of inspiration of fun.  However, I decided to reschedule for next week and substitute the day's activity with <span style="color: #008000; font-size: medium;"><strong>The Earliest Bedtime of My Life.</strong></span>

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When I am so worn out that I'm losing track of the important stuff, nothing could be more soul-scintillating than a drastic sleep intervention.

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I told myself that I would turn in at 8:30.  After washing my face, brushing &amp; flossing, applying various lotions &amp; potions, and reading, I would magically fade off into la-la-land at 9 p.m.

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Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!

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It was a nice thought.

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<span style="font-size: medium; color: #008000;"><strong>Real life: </strong></span> I wrote my <strong><a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2011/03/25/day-178-best-birthday-cake-ever/" target="_blank">Smitten Kitchen Best Birthday Cake Ever blog post</a></strong><a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2011/03/25/day-178-best-birthday-cake-ever/" target="_blank"> </a>until 8:15 p.m.  I worried that I would make many mistakes due to sleep deprivation.  (My Dad always proofs and corrects for me the next morning.  Thanks, Da!)

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I then needed to unload my dishwasher and stack with newly dirty dishes.  Entering my 3rd wind, I took a Zyrtec at 8:30 p.m. in an effort to make me extra sleepy by 9 p.m.  I continued to clean and figured that I'd cut out the bedtime story in the interest of time.

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Little Miss B entered the kitchen at 8:45 p.m. and decided to scarf down her uneaten bowl of dog food made with human grade ingredients.  Why she is such a fussy eater when I buy her only the best, I will never know.  Why she can't eat like a normal pooch when it's plopped down in front of her at 6:30 p.m., I will never know.  Nope.  She inhales her food at bedtime.  Which means, of course, that she'll now have to poop.  In 20 minutes or so.  Greaaaaat.

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At 8:55 p.m., I took Little Miss B out to poop.  Nothing except another Great Cricket Hunting Adventure.  Greaaaaaat.

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I forced myself to wrap up my day and retired to my bedroom at 9 p.m.  I really, really, <em>really</em> wanted to watch Top Chef (DVR'd from the night prior), but I didn't.

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I skipped flossing to save more time.  I just had my teeth cleaned two days prior, so I'm allowed to cheat, right, <strong><a href="http://www.studiobsmiles.com" target="_blank">Dr. B</a></strong>?

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Little Miss B caught a 4th wind and proceeded to squeak every toy in sight.  I hid the toys outside of the bedroom and settled in a for long spring nap.

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Zyrtec rocks.  I started to feel mega sleepy about 4 pages into my book.

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I tucked Bella into her dog bed and shut off the lights.

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I was asleep circa 9:30.

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I dreamed that I was directing a children's play, and I needed to be home early so that I could be asleep at 9 p.m.

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I slept for 9 hours.  9 hours!  On a week night!!!

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At work, I was able to tackle 4 large proposals in a single bound.  I had energy to spare.

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What a difference an hour or two makes!

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Maybe those 9 p.m. bedtimers who walk amongst us aren't so strange after all.  Perhaps they are the other "s" word:  Smart.

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