One Hour

Its amazing the difference an hour can make. This week, I've started downsizing my work day by an hour, meaning I leave at 4pm instead of 5pm. It doesn't seem like it should make that much of a difference, but it really does. Psychologically, getting off an hour earlier makes the day fly by. It also means that traffic is a lot lighter heading home, so I miss the backups at the Caldecott and at the 580/13 merge. (Well, I have so far this week; I actually left at 4pm on Friday and had an even longer wait at the tunnel than usual.) And what do I do when I get home that hour earlier?

Sleep.

At least that's what I've done so far. I didn't intend to either day, but found myself passed out within 15 minutes of getting home. Morgan worked late tonight, so didn't call for a ride from BART until nearly 7pm. And I slept until he got home - nearly two hours.

Like baths, naps are not something that come naturally to me. I can probably credit my mom, who instilled in me a belief that there was something wrong if you napped - you were either sick or depressed. And tonight, I was pretty damn cranky when I woke up, but I blame that on the fact that right before I woke up, I dreamed I was having a migraine. Hopefully after a few days of this, I'll have caught up on some lost sleep and will be able to start spending that extra hour doing stuff around the house - I'm still feeling pretty overwhelmed by the amount of stuff we need to do before the froglet arrives. Hence, cranky.