The witching hour is – of course – the hours between midnight and 2am, when it’s said that witches, demons and ghosts are most likely to appear.
My own witching hour is – naturally – quite different.
I instagrammed, tweeted and Facebooked this on Wednesday night.
Oh yes, naturally I thought others worthy of sharing my despondency. Also, I live alone so there’s no one to whinge to. So only… you know… people at the other end of the world wide web.
Which kinda brings me to my point.
My own witching hour(s) lies between 5 or 6pm (earlier now I don’t have a long commute home from work) to 7.30pm.
It’s the time of day I’m most tired (sleepy) and it’s the time of day I struggle with my alone-ness. (You may recall my aloneness vs loneliness post for the lovely Carla Birnberg.)
For others that time of day is a nightmare for other reasons. There’s kids’ dinners to be prepared and consumed. Adults’ dinners to be cooked. Kids to be bathed and put into bed and various chores undertaken at the same time.
That does sound horrible, but of course the flipside of that is someone to talk to at the end of the working day. Someone to bitch to about work stuff. Someone to sit and have a drink with and the occasional kiss and cuddle. (And I’m talking kids there… none of that R rated stuff you partnered and married types get up to.)
Instead of all of that I spend approximately 2hrs each night (ie. EVERY night) in the bath. Reading. Of course I enjoy reading and love my books, but it also helps disappear (using the word as a verb as we literary types like to!) the early evening for me.
At 7.30 I can get out of the bath, cook my dinner, watch 2-3hrs of taped TV and eat. Before going to bed.
When I worked evenings were my favourite time of day – the only time of day I enjoyed. I eked out my nights as long as possible, often not wanting to go to bed. Because that meant the next day was starting and I had a long day in the office ahead of me. A long day of being ‘on’ and at attention. Ten or so hours until I could again have my freedom.
It’s not quite as bad now that I don’t work full-time and am in a less-stressful job. Back then a therapist called my early evening baths my ‘transition’ time – between work and home. A time to shed the skin of my working day and ready myself for those hours of freedom.
Now they just help pass the time. More than a necessary evil, however, they offer a nourishment and comfort I struggle without.
Are you a bath person? Do you have a witching hour or time of day you find a struggle?
As it’s Friday I’m again flogging my blog With Some Grace.