The Tipping Point

     As I write this, it is 10 minutes after midnight.  This is the tipping point.  I can either go to bed now and start Monday at a normal society-instilled adult time.  Or I can stay up for the next 4-6 hours and turn my schedule on its head.  Oh, these are tough decisions.
     For the last couple of weeks, I've been trying to embrace the vicious cycle. Mary suggested it, and she was right. As long as I was awake for more hours than I was asleep, what did it matter when those hours are?  I don't have an internal alarm clock like some people. I don't wake up unless a loud noise or slap to the face forces me up.  I have figured out a way to harness this power and use it for good.
     So now I'm looking at the tipping point with quite the decision before me. Without the natural ability to wake up, I always run the risk of not getting up at a normal adult time no matter when I go to sleep. I'm not a morning person, or more accurately, a three-hours-after-I-wake-up person. It's always been this way; I'm embracing it, don't try to change it.  If I was ever on deadline for something, I would always stay up dreadfully late because not once would I ever be able to wake up early to finish whatever the project was.  Never.  Ever.
     The tipping point isn't about a deadline.  I'm not on deadline for anything, really. Sure, there's my life I need to go live, but that's not really what we're dealing with.  I'm dealing with how to maximize my time so I waste the least of it.  I'm dealing with it by watching Friends reruns and wafting about when to go to bed.  All the while i giant wet irony glove slaps me across the face.