I have been observing with interest the “solar-powered people” phenomenon as it’s gotten lighter out earlier. Three months ago I was happy to sleep until 9am, because that was when the light arrived through the bedroom window. Now it’s arriving by 6, and I’m waking up around then with a fair degree of regularity. I would no doubt be able to man through it and continue to sleep if my bladder didn’t usually really require me to get up then.
I would be more pleased about this whole scenario if there were any gyms in Cork that opened before 7:30am. The Irish Do Not Get Up Early. At All. So getting up at 6:30 doesn’t so much mean I can leap out of bed and go forth to the gym and exercise and feel virtuous as it means I can leap out of bed, put my contacts in (oh, lord, how I miss wearing contacts all the time, but most especially I miss that wake-up splash of cold saline solution in my eyes), and then…sit around getting sleepy until it gets close enough to 7:30 that I can walk to the gym.
But lo! you say. Lo, you could go for a walk early in the morning instead of going to the gym! Hah! you say. Hah, take that!
And you would be right. Except the walk I’m most fond of is on a gated trail which doesn’t open until half eight. And if I walk out along the roads, then the walk home is very unpleasant because it’s full of traffic and noxious fumes, or includes the bonus terror of narrow Irish roads and drivers coming at you at eleven hundred miles an hour. Tomorrow I may go explore whether the other Lovely Walk is ungated at all hours (they’re doing construction there, so it may not be), but today’s a gym day.
I can already tell I’m going to *badly* need a nap later. But now it’s 7am, and so I’m going to take the long way ’round to the gym, but first I’ll leave you with a story of nudity, Catholic school girls, and butter (which is, strangely enough, *entirely* work safe).
miles to Minas Tirith: 393.8(x-posted from the essential kit)