It’s ten-thirty in the morning, and–believe it or not–I’ve been awake and functioning for four hours. That’s right, my alarm clock, whose tone this entire week has been set to “whining beagle,” went off at six-thirty. So after dragging myself out of bed and walking the dog, rather than going back to sleep, I stayed up. I know, weird. First I went to the bank, then the grocery store, then the convenience store. Then I unloaded the dishwasher, made breakfast, and surfed the internet. Currently–obviously–I’m writing. Granted, I wrote fewer than twelve hours ago, but my reasoning in both being active and writing this morning is that if I get stuff done now I won’t have to do it later.

Original, genius, I know.

Granted, writing this early in the day, after so little sleep, still means that I’m writing tired the way I do late at night. This is okay. I enjoy that foggy, dreamy feeling that comes along with being tired. It’s easier to be creative. I have less of a filter. My walls are down. Whatever ideas want to come and go–can. We’re all free here. Plus, by writing earlier, I’ll have the rest of the day to myself. A wide-open calendar. Whatever wants to happen can happen. Let’s hear it for spontaneity. Adventure awaits me.

Of course, by adventure I mean probably a book or a nap. Seriously, I think if you get up at six-thirty in the morning, you’ve pretty much got to take a nap. I mean, if you’re over thirty. Last night, about midnight, I started the dishwasher before I went to bed, and this morning realized it was still running. My parents’ dishwasher does this sometimes–doesn’t shut off when the cycle is over. Instead, it just goes and goes. And whereas this produces some rather sparkling dishes, it’s no way for a dishwasher, or a human, to live.

You’ve simply got to take a break.

Taking a break sounds like a wonderful idea. This morning while walking the dog I thought about how for months I was consistent with my knee rehab exercises but have slacked off the last couple weeks. I’ve been telling myself that I’ve just had a lot going on. And whereas this is true, I could make time to rehab if I truly wanted to. There’s always time for the things you really want. But the fact is I need a rest from rehab. For days, weeks, and months I’ve been going back and forth to physical therapy and the gym, working my butt off, and I’ve had enough. Not forever, but for now. Likewise, I was thinking about how much time and energy this blog consumes and about how once I reach my goal of writing daily for three years, I’ll be “so ready” to do something else. Like sit on the couch and eat Cheetos.

For the sake of balance, of course.

By balance I mean that you can’t go, go, go all the time. At some point you’ve got to stop, stop, stop.

Like I am now.