Missing Midnight

No, not my adorable seven-pound black cat by the same name, but rather, my former rising time.

Since last August's surgery and subsequent hive flare-up, as well as the loss of my husband's job, my schedule has taken a subtle shift that has its pros and cons. I go to bed later and rise later (although I'm still delivering newspapers), but I'm missing the quiet, productive hours that came with greeting the new day at the stroke of midnight.

To be sure, the plusses are there. My children, now all teens and young adults, are leading more independent lives, so an early bedtime cuts shortens our dwindling time together. It also means a few helping hands for the housework (Choretime is now in the evening) which had increased proportionately after we added a few members to the house. Also, because of conflicting work schedules, some people can only be interviewed for stories in the evening, a previously impossible task when I'd hit the sack at four o'clock in the afternoon.

And yet...there was something subtly magical about the hissing of the coffee pot in quiet house, the sounds of the night floating through my office window, and the thumping of my cats as they scampered across the roof (My office is in an attic).

That was the perfect time for housework (no interruptions, and no family members making additional messes as quickly as I cleaned up), editing of the previous day's work, and writing vampire stories. Occasionally, now, I'll wake to dawn's early light with the sinking feeling I've wasted half the day.

I'm thinking there might be a way to compromise here. I just have to figure out how to do it.