Well, let me put it this way: if you ever want to witness the most profound internal debate of my existence, observe me at 6:00 a.m. when the alarm goes off. There’s a fleeting moment where the calm clarity of sunrise promises a productive day, but it’s quickly drowned out by my body’s insistence that it was designed for nocturnal brilliance.
Somewhere between early morning client meetings, where I find myself surprisingly “perky” despite the odds, and late-night brainstorming sessions about lambs at stoplights or pawrenting podcast ideas, my rhythm thrives on duality. I guess you could say I’m a “when-inspiration-strikes” kind of person. My mornings have become my professional side hustle, and my nights? That’s when my creativity decides to clock in.
And let’s be honest, pets don’t really care if you’re a morning or night person—they’ll demand your attention at both times with no regard for your existential dilemma. My dog’s routine is the real boss here. Morning? That’s walk time, even if my brain feels like it’s on dial-up. Night? That’s cuddle-on-the-couch time, no matter how many “to-dos” I still have glaring at me from the day.
The truth is, life doesn’t fit into neat categories, and neither do I. My energy ebbs and flows like a puppy deciding whether to chase its tail or take a nap. Some days I crush the early hours with a perfectly salted vegetable soup in hand (shoutout to my favorite Chinese place), while on others, I find my muse well past midnight.
So maybe the better question isn’t whether I’m a morning or night person. Maybe it’s: am I a dog person or a cat person? And the answer is obvious—yes.
And, am I a morning or night person? Neither. I’m a “life doesn’t wait for perfect timing” person.
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