When we are children, our parents set our bedtime.
“It’s time for bed.” And while we might argue, or ask for a glass of water, or ask for another story, or try to sneak out to look at the TV (in the era when there was no second TVs in bedrooms) we accepted the fact that there was a set time for bed. And I remember falling asleep quickly and soundly and then bounding out of bed the next morning. I know they are not false memories.
So what happened?
It is so obvious: if you are not getting to bed until very late and you have to get up early, you are setting yourself up to be tired! It is a statement to which the only response is, “DER!”
Staying up to watch TV, or working late, or surfing the net. I really have to set a time limit.
It might be genetic, because my mother does the same thing. But I think it is just a host of bad habits. Ones adopted by many adults. Well, time to be the adult and set a limit. TV is not more important than sleep.
I have been getting into bed by 11pm. I will set my new bedtime as 10.30. If I sleep straight away, and wake up at 6, that’s 7 1/2 hours.
What is it about Friday night that makes me give myself permission to stay up and watch tele? I went out for dinner and drinks and was home after 10, but thought I’d have a cup of tea. Started flicking between movies on TV, rested my head against the arm rest and … Yes, I slept. In bed at 12. Luckily I went back to sleep immediately and slept soundly until 7. If I do this when I am focusing on my sleep, what am I going to be like when I stop posting everyday about sleep? I need to stop giving myself permission to break my goals. And I need to stay focused!
Today’s decluttered item = a pair of pants I have never worn. I have three pairs of these pants. This tale may sound mad but a few years ago I got caught up in a spending spree from a cheap on-line clothes store that had very cheap and quite nice clothes. I bought multiples of different items, including these pants. The thought was to have one with long legs for high heels; take up the hem for another pair to wear with flats; and turn another pair into shorts. More than 3 years later I can confidently say it ain’t gunna happen! I don’t sew. I have never sown. So why would I do this to myself – place the guilt of having to do something? They have languished, forgotten, at the bottom of my wardrobe. How much tidier will it look without something cluttering the base? How much nicer will my clothes hang without something piled on the base of the wardrobe, restricting the straight hanging of my clothes?