I am almost giddy with glee tonight, for one reason. I get to work from home tomorrow (heavy paper work session), which means I get to wake at 8 and read for a full hour before I even have to contemplate life! I swear, if I could wake leisurely and do this everyday, nothing could possibly get me down. It sets the right tone and calm for a day, no matter what it may throw at me.
I don’t often wonder about the day I rule the world, but it does occur to me every now and again. I am usually put in mind of Futurama where every being is chipped with their destiny and employment and deviation is unacceptable. This isn’t what I want, but I often wonder if assessing people according to their preferred habitual routines in this way would help with productivity. I’m not the only one in the world who prefers to wake later and work later, but the normal world doesn’t allow for this. I could quite happily wake daily at 8, read for an hour to fix my spirits then make my way out into the world, preferably with a bite to eat. I rarely, if ever have breakfast when I’m leaving the house at 7.30. It takes away vital slumber minutes before work begins. Neither do I read any more in a morning, that would involve the alarm going off at an hour I am not sure exists. But I know these things would make me a more content person with a fuller tummy and a more inspired brain.
The combination of these things makes me generally content and therefore more productive. I am friendlier towards people (we have recently discovered that food deprivation makes for quite a foul beast which Steve deals with amazingly) and am more willing to help. I do tend to think of myself as a friendly helper anyway, but I do get crotchety, far more often than intended. And all because of that deprived hour with my story telling.
So before I begin the heavy diagnostic assessment analysis of the mathematical functions (or lack of them) of four six year old children – you would be amazed how much there is to write up – I shall brew the pot and snuggle back under the duvet with my gothic fiction. Then smugly grin as Steve has to fight away the duvet for his Friday commute.