The best revelations come at some ungodly hour, like 4 a.m..

The freshest air floats by in the two or three hours after midnight.

The prettiest sky comes at about 5:30.

I worship nighttime.

Thanks to the conflicting gods of paycheck and Ninetofive, though, I also sleep through it. But I, and the rest of us worshippers of the wee hours, the people whose eyes light up when the clock says 3:33 a.m., we all kind of look forward to getting old. To leaving The Shift. To waking more often in the middle of the night, throwing on some slippers and standing on the porch, or using the superb opportunity to do some uncrowded, easy shopping.

The one piece of advice I might have for other night-worshippers is to check out and, if you can, consider, the Uberman's Sleep Schedule. Danke and--yarrwwagh!--good night.

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