When Did 9:30PM Become A Good Bedtime?

Tonight I sit, slightly askew on my recliner, laptop propped on the left arm with the help of my left thigh of my legs that are tucked up on the set of the chair. It's 9:30, and I've just returned from a walk with the dog. The air had been crisp and the moon, a clear, bright beacon to continue the walk far past the dog's "business" being done.

And it hit me. I was going home to crawl in bed. 9:30PM on a Saturday night, and I was yearning for the comfort of my pillow-topped bed and Kindle. When did this happen?

Shouldn't I be hosting a BBQ for my 

softball team that just played 4 games 

and won the championship, and serve 

my special Sangria?

Shouldn't I be at a friend's, sitting on the porch sipping a glass of wine? Shouldn't I be out at a bustling bistro with Alan, maybe Alex, under the stars and surrounded by muffled laughter? Shouldn't I be sitting by a bonfire up at a cabin on the lake, way north and west of here, toasting marshmallows and making smores while bitching about the smoke blowing my direction? Shouldn't I be sitting at that same cabin, fire dying down, and looking skyward to see millions and billions of stars so that it looks like somebody shook a powdered donut on blue/black velvet?

I'm still yearning for bed. My eyes are weary and my mind is running over a list of things I should have done, things I should have said and things I shouldn't have. Even if I go to sleep, will I sleep? And if I sleep, what the heck will invade that quiet time? Will the images of my youth in New Jersey be the setting, only to be invaded with an ill-placed building with elevators that are suppose to take me to the top, only to break loosed and begin to fall? Will I dream of my dog, Thor, who I grew up with? Will we play and laugh, and will he finally lay down with me to sleep like he did when I was young? Will I be visited by my grandmothers or grandfathers? Will my mom show up and sit down at a Starbucks with me to catch up on my life, Alan, Alex, Doug?

Still weary. Still wondering.

I look around me and I see small projects that need completed. I see school supplies that need organized. I see bags of empty shoe boxes that need to be thrown away. I see a dog crate I've been meaning to donate to local pet store that does rescues. I see papers, lots of papers. Some are notes, some bills, some are ticket stubs from a movie. I see the piles of life moments I've created in my minor league hoarding. I hear the load of laundry I threw in before taking the dog for a walk, so as to get it done tomorrow morning. I hear the thumping of a sub woofer in a large SUV double parked outside with interestingly dressed women preparing to go out.

It could be overwhelming.

But I'm tired. I think I'll sleep and take a look around tomorrow, with new, rested eyes.