In both senses.
It's just after 11 pm. My Mom just came out of her bedroom to check if I'm not in bed yet. (She did the same thing last night at this time.)
When I got up to use the bathroom at 5:30 am, she popped out of the bedroom to say good morning. She had been waiting to hear me stir. We had plans to meet someone at 9:30 at the train station, so it wasn't like we needed to be up at 5:30 to rush around to get breakfast. And being evil, I went back to bed for a bit.
Let's just say we're on slightly different sleep schedules, and one of us really believes there's a moral rectitude to getting up early.
In the past, I've thought to myself, "never again." But I realized today that I know that's not likely, and that I can't even tell myself that to feel better. So when she was off on a racist tangent with one of my friends, well, I wasn't happy. But I think I've learned to trust that my friends are aware enough to realize that my Mom and I are separate beings, and if my Mom says something, that doesn't mean that I endorse it. So I kept my mouth shut and wanted to think "never again," but couldn't.
I'm trying not to care and counting the days with despair in my very center.
And now I'm going to bed so that I can start again tomorrow at whatever hour.