In the new year, my friends in the Central and Pacific time zones are still getting home at night before me. At least I didn’t resolve to leave earlier this year.

But as my one friend said, “You know, staying an extra three hours at night doesn’t mean you get to shave three hours off your next day.”

That’s the thing. It’s not even the law of diminishing returns for me at night. That’s when I come alive. It’s just a morning like this when I’m dead inside and out that I wish I could get that three hours back.

Since, you know, I was supposed to go grocery-shopping last night and the stores I needed are A) too far away and B) closed at 9 p.m.

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