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 shit 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?