Bragging rights

This morning I got up at 6 am to take Lady for a run in the park -- a first. Given the killer temperatures the past couple of days, it was a triumph to get outdoors before we hit 90 degrees (it was 89) and before the sun's direct rays could heighten the torture. My current bedroom with east-facing window and no curtains is impacting my sleep/wake behavior on one end. The other end (what time I hit the bed in the evening) is harder to change. Maybe a mid-day nap? Absorbed in a Henning Mankell murder mystery after a hard afternoon doing housework and deserving of that reward, I can't seem to put the book down before 1 am. Still, I've been getting up at 7-ish for a while now, an amazing turn of events for me. Perhaps my whole life will change as I shift to 6am. Will it last?

Disturbing a dusty heap, I cringe, expecting the worst. During my prolonged resistance phase, I might notice the heap, have a momentary impulse to do something about it, cringe, and stifle the impulse. Transitioning to action has been traumatic these past weeks. Perhaps it will stick. Going on strike, feeling petulant and justified in my secret war, has been futile and self denigrating. Of course, it's not just my fucked up marriage psychology working on me. It goes back to my mother, my childhood, my rebellion and haughty rejection of the whole kit-and-caboodle. I'm contemplating (with disgust) the therapeutic benefits of bed bug infestation.