In the past few years, sleep has become more and more sacred to me. I regularly get about 7 hours; 8 on a good night, and even more on leisurely weekends. 6 or less and I get cranky, lack concentration, and have zero motivation to exercise. This effectively gives me a solid curfew on school nights these days of about 11, or maybe midnight if I'm close to home. Last night, I went to go see a band in Williamsburg with two of my law school friends with whom I used to go see bands all the time. When we first made the plans, we thought the band was starting at 8. Then we learned there was an opening band at 8 and our band was on at 9. This was perfect — it allowed for a quick stop at home to walk Mox, and ample time to get to Brooklyn and catch up over dinner before the band started. Late in the day we learned our band was slated to start at 10.
Now, I'm the only one in the group that isn't married with kids, but one friend is (and never was) a night owl, and one of my friends had to deal with the additional schlep of a train back to Long Island at the end of the evening, so we weren't thrilled with the 10pm start. Of course, because we're dealing with a cool, hip band in Williamsburg, they didn't actually go on until about 10:50. Let's just say I'm a little tired today, but it would have been worse if I had stayed until the band finished. I was the first man down — pathetic, I know. My law school self would be terribly disappointed.
