As a refined version of the 2014 ME, I am resigning to the fact that expectations are to properly managed. Becoming an early bird is a fluid goal, not etched in stone but not scribbled in pencil either.

I want this self-rehab series to stick.

The last time I tried changing my sleeping habit I lasted a total of 3 days. Good thing I was waking up so late that in waking up “early” now means anything before 10am.

Again, I cannot stress this enough: baby steps!

Today I clocked in at 7:30am and then again at 8:30am until I got up right before 9am. In my defense, the sleeping aids from the night before had not kicked in properly or rather my inner committee was telling me that if I keep taking pills my heart would stop.

They know how to strike below the belt and thus insomnia mixed with fear took over.

Having the iPAD in bed doesn’t help but it is what it is. My nighttime ritual involves music and what better way to listen to Spotify than with the iPAD.

I can’t do the phone because it serves as my alarm clock and having it close by is dangerous. I have a tendency to turn it off in my sleep and what would have been a noble attempt at curbing my sleeping pattern would have gone straight down the drain, or the hole in the basement that I sleep next to.

I love sleep. I stopped feeling ashamed. I stopped feeling guilt. I stopped giving it the side piece treatment. If there were a reality TV show called “Love and Sleep” I would be up in there throwing off my glasses like it were a weave and proclaiming that I love both success and sleep.

As if both were not mutually exclusive. I mean Tara and Amina kinda look alike. Maybe not sisters but if it came out that they were distant cousins, I would not be surprised.

Wait, wrong show.

Pardon me.

I digress.

Back to me and my love affair with sleep….