Savoring the blue hour: Escaping an anesthetized life
The cats woke me up early recently, well before dawn. I rolled over and felt around under the pillows for my phone. It was 6:30 in the morning.
On any other morning, I’d have responded like a different pet—one of Pavlov’s dogs, immediately tapping in the password to my iPhone and scouring Twitter or Facebook for updates from friends in different time zones. When I first started freelancing last fall, my roommates would find me propped up in bed on my computer most mornings. The alarm goes off, the NPR goes on, and I dive into my email. But then, I realized how much I missed time spent getting ready in the morning, my bus commute, picking up a latte at Cadence. It gave me space in my morning to simply enjoy waking up. I got to keep the lucid, sleepy, dreamy part of my day to myself, or at least part of it. I knew I needed to reclaim my mornings.