I can't make too much noise, though, because then people will wake up to investigate and will then, by definition, be "around." So, right off the bat there's a massive flaw in the contract I signed with myself. I should have read the fine print.
Don't misconstrue: When I joyously say I do it because no one's around, it doesn't mean I hate being around people. I like people about the average amount. Being awake late into the night is like a tiny vacation to a desolate island on a very cloudy day. There's a freedom I don't feel when the sun is out and making people walk around in its honor. It's a pleasant loneliness. The world has finally shut up. I wouldn't want to live in it, but it's a nice weekend getaway ... one that happens every night.
I was raised in an apartment along a loud, busy street. I think (again, think) I subconsciously began associating sunlight with loud cars, loud motorcycles, people screaming at each other, regularly scheduled twice-a-week car accidents, and emergency vehicle sirens (most times unrelated to the car accidents). For better or worse, all that hustle and bustle is the sound of s**t getting done. Jobs. Money. Societal advancement. Life. Associating night with tranquility means my brain is in for a rough morning, every morning. My brain is still enjoying a midnight mojito on a beach while my body is getting beaten to a quivering heap by the daylight.
You'll never hurt me, will you, alcohol?