Why is it that reading in bed at night is intellectual, holier-than-thou, sophisticated, classy, comforting, and elevating and (perhaps a little lame-o)? Better than watching tv and good for the entire world since whoever is reading isn’t getting dumber by the minute. (And just so you know, having a television in one’s bedroom is bad for business.) Couples reading in bed have a good thing going on–at least in theory–perhaps the beginnings of an interesting conversation or anything else that utilizes lips.

But reading in bed at the break of day has an altogether different feel. It seems lazy, slothful, indolent, loser-ish.  It’s avoiding the day, the to-do list. It’s just morally wrong–even if it isn’t. You’re supposed to jump out of bed and get on with the day. Get moving. Exercise. No one thinks she should be running at 11 p.m., but at 6:30, hmmmm. Durn.

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