Feeling Elated in the Early Hours of the Morning

Thinking that my previous sleeping habit (sleep at 5a, wake at 3p) would ready me for a normal night routine in Italy. Unfortunately, I didn't take into account the gruesomely long hours of the flight to France--OK, I lie. The hours weren't all too long, but the sitting for 10 hours straight does take its toll on your buttock(s). And due to that, sleeping isn't all too comfortable, especially if you were blessed enough to sit behind a family who just LOVES to "lean back" (hah) and venture off on bathroom excursions so often that you feel tempted to recommend seeing a doctor for bladder problems. Whew.
So sleep was something that caught up with us in the land of the ancients. Lovely, really.

Luckily at 6am this morning (I had already been awake for 2 hours), someone calls the house regarding a little lost child (aka my luggage). Now, I cannot even begin to describe the happiness I felt as I undid the zipper (Lordy, this sounds awkward) to check on my little treasures, little pleasures. Kudos to anyone who catches the song alluded to.

But during the early hours of the morning I realized how nice and peaceful it is to, in some way, have the house to myself. Obviously, it's now impossible to find alone time in the late hours of night since everyone seems to enjoy staying up. But as I sat on the chase at 4am, taking in the still, silent atmosphere and lounging in the remaining hints of sleep within my system, I was happy. In previous times, such a feeling would be accompanied with waking up semi-late to an empty house, with the sun's rays elegantly falling upon your covers, gently fighting the curtain's waning resistance. But that was when I was 10. Sadly, I now wake up too late to enjoy such a simple joy.

Now, I must find a way to sleep early in order to wake up early enough to catch the 4th hour. Or, the most common way, stay awake and pull an all-nighter for old times' sake. --

Eff this. I'm taking a shower.