Sacrificing sleep for leisure time and self sabotage of revenge bedtime dithering are rooted in science

AT some point over the (very long) Easter holidays I heard a radio ad for the mid-week Lotto. The jackpot was for something insane like a trillion million but obviously I didn’t buy a ticket. Are you mad? Haven’t you heard all those warnings of the crippling recession that’s hurtling at the speed of light towards us? There’s even talks of car pooling – I mean I can barely tolerate my own family in the car not to mind anyone else. Give me strength.

Anyway, I did wonder what life would be like if I won it. Except for having better hair, it wouldn’t change me a single bit, that’s for sure I declared. But then as I allowed my mind to wander I felt it might have meant we had Easter-ed in the Maldives, or maybe blagged a ride to the moon, rather than say a visit to Mahon Point. I know shopping centres are  designed to appeal to the younger demographic but god they crush my soul. I hate everything about the places except for the free parking – which is fierce handy considering you can lose entire days in these places.

Anyway, I found myself on a bit of a roll then and I decided that I’d also employ someone who had one job and one job only – and that’s to put me to bed every night before 11pm. I’d probably give him/her a few other tasks (a bit of laundry maybe) but tucking me up (and possibly locking me in my room) would be their main responsibility. My husband is very committed to a good night’s sleep and has tried his very best to get me into the same habit – mainly by reminding me how awful I’ll feel in the morning (and by awful he means crankier than hell and a bit terrifying). I always promise I’ll follow in ‘10 minutes’ and I mean it (usually), but that can become anything from one hour to three – and it’s finally catching up on me.

Now, I do honestly feel time goes faster after 10pm. One minute it’s a respectable 10.25pm, and before you know it it’s 12.15am and you’re only getting into your stride. And it’s not like I’m just watching TV either, I admit I do indulge in some mindless binging, but I’ll also get wildly enthusiastic about jobs that I could easily have done during the day. Reassuringly, I’m not alone in this carry on though. I’ve a good pal who lives in London who does the very same. We support each other during the day as we compare how awful we feel, remind ourselves to go to bed at a decent hour, before we go off radar from around 10pm, and reappear in the morning all Britney ‘Oops I did it again,’ full of self-recrimination and pledges to do better. We’re pities!

It has a name, though this self-sabotaging carry on: revenge bedtime procrastination. Experts say it’s ‘the decision to sacrifice sleep for leisure time, mainly driven by a lack of control or free time during the day.’ See it’s not my fault! It’s all that adulting I have to do! Regardless though I have to call time on it, even for the sake of my skin. And I will too as soon as I finish post-apocalyptic political thriller ‘Paradise’ which is more addictive than Pringles. We’re nearly out the other end of the Easter holidays. They were lovely, if a teeny bit long. It probably says it all when you try to build a family outing around the grocery shopping. But it was all good and most importantly chocolate and fresh-air filled. But back to business: anyone interested in applying for that role of night time manager, send on those CVs. A military background isn’t essential but might help as I can be quite defiant; tech skills would also be a bonus  to disable the WiFi etc.
Probably strict willpower is the most important thing needed so you don’t end up joining me on the couch and enjoying a forgotten Easter Egg as, I don’t care what people say, staying up late really is one of the biggest perks of being a grown up! Just make sure you keep an eye on your coffee supplies.