The wee hours

I wonder what the allure of the wee hours really is. Is it the quiet. Is it the last vestiges of childhood; certainly I'm not the only one with memories full of the dreaded bedtime. Is it that I'm so used to having my head full of to do lists, chores, assignments, budgeting, kids schedules, menus, shopping, writing, cell membrane transport systems (yes, that is what I'm studying in bio) and so, so  much more that it's hard to turn my brain off.  I can't blame school work tonight. I got it done hours ago.

Tonight I picked up a book I bought months ago, and I just finished it. I try really hard to live with acceptance of, and to take responsibility for, all my choices.  I think guilt is a useless emotion that hinders more than it will ever help, but I feel a little guilty for reading for the past few hours instead of doing something "productive". Now, if you and I were having this conversation face to face, I'd be able to say all the right things. "I know it's good to do something for myself", and "One night of reading will not make a difference in the long run", things like that. I can't help but wonder though, will it make a difference? Is this the best thing I could have chosen? The answer to both is, probably not. It's one a.m. again and that's okay. My day tomorrow will be a little less stellar because of course I'll be tired and  I will eventually have to do that which I put off. Sometimes though, it feels good to do what I want to do, not what I have to do, even if that want is just reading a silly novel.