I don't generally wake up in the four o'clock hour unless I need to fly somewhere. Today, the eyes shot open at 4:40am and stayed open, my mind turning over at a clip more reminiscent of 10am.
I've never been a morning person. But I'm beginning to sense that there's a lot that you can do in the morning that doesn't get done quite as well later in the day.
As the sky started waking up to my left, I read Cory Doctorow's "I, Row-Boat" on Flurb. I don't read as much as I used to, so some extra time becomes an opportunity to fall into a story and waddle around like the old days. I used to be able to keep my "book queue" down to a small pile, but of late it's tottering around four feet tall, filled with books I should read (the rest of the Jonathan Lethem oeuvre), work books (Good to Great, anyone?) and so forth. The stack tends to be a LIFO queue, which means next up is Charles Stross' Glasshouse. Samuel Johnson will have to wait a little longer. Sorry Sam.
There was time to add to a project I've started in a Writely document. It's a remarkable tool for tracking your more durable, private thoughts. I think of it as my "unterwiki".
There was time to plan the day, not just react to the day.
When the clock rolled to the bottom of the six o'clock hour and the first vague stirrings started sounding from upstairs I knew my private time was almost over; I'll make some coffee, dash outside to get the paper, pull a few weeds on my way back in. Another day will start turning its gears to propel me in the blink of an eye toward night.
All good reasons to get up early - so I can see where I'm going first. Have a good one.