Yesterday, the prior evening’s lack of sleep sidetracked my good intentions. When I can’t sleep, I refuse to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. In the past, I have used insomnia as an excuse to rearrange furniture, bake cookies, catch up on laundry, work on neglected projects, or watch the mindless flickering on the television screen. Any activity I select, I chose, hoping I will soon grow tired enough to return to bed and sleep.

This time, the activity I pursued, reading, had the opposite result. At two in the morning, I picked up a book and kept turning pages until I finally felt sleepy. The clock said it was seven, and I didn’t have the energy to get up, make a pot of coffee, and start the day despite being up all night. The tactic often works. Sticking to my usual schedule ensures I fall asleep as…