Stupid Brain!

I've come up with a mildly distressing and all-too-plausible theory as to why I seem to keep waking up in the middle of the night. When I first moved in here, as those of you who've been paying slavish devotion to this blog and memorizing its every word -- I'm sure there are thousands of you -- may remember, I spent a couple of weeks obsessively cleaning, unpacking and setting up, and developed this pattern of waking up at something like 4:30 in the morning and being so eager to get back at it that I'd just get up, make a pot of coffee, and start hammering together bookshelves or something. It occurs to me now, nearly a year later, that some deep part of my brain may have been conditioned by that to believe that, in this particular environment, waking up at 4:30 (or after about four or five hours, whichever is applicable) and being active is the Appropriate Thing to Do.

The sad thing is, even if this insight is correct, I'm not at all sure what to do about it, short of moving again. And that's sure as hell not going to happen.

Sigh.