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As long as I can remember I have been a late night person, or owl if you will. As a child I hated having to go to bed and spent an inordinate amount of time sneaking out of bed and down the stairs to catch fragments of TV programs I didn’t understand or quite follow. I stayed up late with the light on, or a torch, reading and trying to not get caught.

Luckily for me I have never needed too much sleep (6.5 hours does me fine) going to bed before 12am is something I find nearly impossible to do, more often then not it is  past one before I climb upstairs. And once I am in bed I need a while to calm down and switch off, an hour of reading or pondering thoughts is not uncommon.

That means that getting up is a little bit difficult at times and this morning was just one of them. I had so much on my agenda but the lure of my warm blanket and cuddly pillow won and I stayed in bed for an extra half hour leaving em a little short of time and not very creative this morning.

The owl in me knows that will be different tonight, but right now wish I was a lark and could enjoy the time of day just after dawn and before the real day starts. But as an owl I will swivel my head, open one eye an face the day with a tired “hoo”  and hope that Woody Allen was right:

There are two types of people in this world, good and bad. The good sleep better, but the bad to enjoy the waking hours much more