Siesta time

I'm a morning person.

I know this is pretty unusual.  I also know from first-hand experience that night owls tend to hate us morning people, who are up with the sun and at least reasonably coherent by six a.m., if not always showered and fully dressed.  (Hell, I'm retired.  Fully dressed sometimes doesn't happen at all, especially when the weather is warm.)

The result, though, is that I fade out pretty early in the evening.  I'm one of those people who, when invited to a party, seriously consider saying no if the start time is after seven in the evening.  By eight I want to be reading a book, and the times I'm still awake at ten are few and far between.

But the lowest time for me, energy-wise, is right after lunch.  Even when I get adequate sleep, I go through a serious slump in the early afternoon, even if I was chipper beforehand.  (Okay, given my personality, I'm never really chipper.  I also don't do "perky" or "bubbly."  So think about it as "chipper as compared to my baseline demeanor.")

Turns out, I'm not alone in finding the early afternoon a tough time to be productive, or even to stay awake.  As I learned from a paper in The Journal of Neuroscience, the problem is a fluctuation in the brain's reward circuit -- it, like many other human behaviors, is on a circadian rhythm that affects its function in a regular and predictable fashion.

The problem is a misalignment of the putamen (part of the brain's reward circuit) and the suprachiasmatic nucleus, which acts as a biological clock.  The putamen is most active when you receive a reward you weren't expecting, and least active when you expect a reward and don't get one.  The cycling of the suprachiasmatic nucleus stimulates the putamen to expect a reward after lunch, and then when it doesn't come -- one in the afternoon is nowhere near quitting time or happy hour, and most people's schedules don't accommodate an early afternoon nap -- the expected payoff doesn't happen.

The result: sad putamen.  Drop in motivation levels.

"The data suggest that the brain’s reward centres might be primed to expect rewards in the early afternoon, and be ‘surprised’ when they appear at the start and end of the day," said neuroscientist Jamie Byrne of Swinburne University.  "[The] brain is ‘expecting’ rewards at some times of day more than others, because it is adaptively primed by the body clock."

Me, I wonder why this priming happens at all.  What sort of reward did we receive in the early afternoon in our evolutionary history that led to this response becoming so common?  Honestly, I wonder if it was napping; an afternoon nap has been found not only to improve cognitive function, but (contrary to popular opinion) doesn't generally interfere with sleeping at night.  Having evolved on the African savanna, where the early afternoon can be miserably hot, it could be that we're built to snooze in the shade after lunch, and now that most of us are on an eight-to-five work schedule, we can't get away with it any more.  But the circadian rhythm we evolved is still there, and our energy levels plummet after lunch.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Jamain, Sleeping man J1, CC BY-SA 3.0]

It reminds me of the three weeks I spent in Spain and Portugal a few years ago.  I was astonished at first by the fact that no one ate dinner -- even considered eating dinner -- until nine in the evening.  (On one of our first days there, we went to a restaurant at about eight, and asked the waiter if we could be seated at a table.  His response was, "Why?"  I think he was genuinely puzzled as to why anyone might want dinner at such a ridiculously early hour.)  But once we got the hang of it -- a big lunch with a bottle of fine red wine, then a three-hour siesta during the hottest part of the day, when businesses close their doors so there's nothing much to do but sleep anyhow -- even I was able to stay up late with no problem.

All in all, a very pleasant lifestyle, I thought.

So we now know there is a neurological reason for the early-afternoon energy slump.  Kind of a fascinating thing how much we're at the mercy of our biological clock.  But anyhow, I better get busy and get some chores done.  Time's a-wasting, and I'm guessing by lunchtime I won't be feeling like doing much but hitting the hammock and conking out for a while.

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation of the week is pure fun, and a great gift for any of your friends who are cryptid fanciers: Graham Roumieu's hilarious Me Write Book: It Bigfoot Memoir.

In this short but hysterically funny book, we find out from the Big Guy's own mouth how hard it is to have the reputation for being huge, hairy, and bad-smelling.  Okay, even he admits he doesn't smell great, but it's not his fault, as showers aren't common out in the wilderness.  And think about the effect this has on his self-image, not to mention his success rate of advertising in the "Personals" section of the newspaper.

So read this first-person account of the struggles of this hirsute Everyman, and maybe even next time you're out hiking, bring along a little something for our australopithecene distant cousin.

He's very fond of peach schnapps.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

The problems with falling back

Here in the United States we've just gone from Daylight Savings Time back onto Standard Time, and like a lot of us, it's playing hell with my circadian rhythms.

I'm a morning person, which you'll know if you've ever noticed the timestamp on my Skeptophilia posts.  This means, of course, that by the evening I'm pretty wiped out.  The result is that we have to make sure any social engagements we have are over by nine o'clock, or my wife will look over and find me curled up on the floor in the corner, asleep.

Which may explain why we don't get invited to many social engagements.

Anyhow, a lot of people look forward to the "Fall Back" in November, because it gains them an hour's sleep (for one weekend, at least), and until their bodies adjust to the new schedule they don't feel like they're getting up so damned early.  I have exactly the opposite response.  The "Fall Back" is worse for morning people than for night owls, because now we're waking up even earlier (by the clock), and now it's eight o'clock, not nine o'clock, that our brains start to shut down.  The "Spring Forward" in March is actually easier on me, because it brings the clock into closer sync with my natural body rhythms, even though I do lose an hour's sleep.

But the whole thing still strikes me as a colossally silly idea.  I'm in agreement with whoever compared Daylight Savings Time to cutting the top off of a blanket and sewing the piece onto the bottom to make it longer.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Jamain, Sleeping man J1, CC BY-SA 3.0]

A study released this week in the Journal of the American Medical Association looks at some of the physiological and neurological repercussions of jerking around our body clocks.  In "Are Daylight Savings Time Changes Bad for the Brain?", Beth A. Malow, Olivia Veatch, and Kanika Bagai conclude that the answer is "Definitely yes" (thus breaking Betteridge's Law, that says that any headline that asks a question can be answered by the word "No.").

The whole idea of Daylight Savings Time was about saving energy, and eleven years ago a study by the Department of Transportation found that the energy savings accrued from the change is a whopping 0.02%.  On the other hand, in the days following the March "Spring Forward," Malow et al. found that:

• a dramatic jump in the number of strokes;
• a 5% increase in the number of myocardial infarctions;
• a reduction in sleep duration among high school students that persisted for weeks after the transition;
• overall lower quality sleep (as measured by the amount of deep sleep) in just about everyone for at least two weeks after the transition.

This is on top of the fact that most of us sleep like crap anyhow, and it's having terrible effects.  Another study that came out this week, this one in Nature Human Behavior, found a strong link between sleep duration and quality, and the severity of anxiety and stress.  One sleepless night, the researchers found, causes a 30% jump in anxiety -- and like the Daylight Savings Time study, the ill effects persist for days or weeks afterward.  So it's not enough just to say "I'll sleep tomorrow night;" you need adequate sleep every night.

And most of us aren't getting it.

"We have identified a new function of deep sleep, one that decreases anxiety overnight by reorganizing connections in the brain," said study senior author Matthew Walker, a University of California-Berkeley professor of neuroscience and psychology.  "Deep sleep seems to be a natural anxiolytic, so long as we get it each and every night...  Without sleep, it’s almost as if the brain is too heavy on the emotional accelerator pedal, without enough brake."

"Deep sleep... restored the brain’s prefrontal mechanism that regulates our emotions, lowering emotional and physiological reactivity and preventing the escalation of anxiety," said study lead author Eti Ben Simon, a postdoctoral fellow at Berkeley's Center for Human Sleep Science.  "People with anxiety disorders routinely report having disturbed sleep, but rarely is sleep improvement considered as a clinical recommendation for lowering anxiety.  Our study not only establishes a causal connection between sleep and anxiety, but it identifies the kind of deep NREM sleep we need to calm the overanxious brain."

We need to start looking at adequate sleep (both in duration and quality) not as a luxury, but a necessity, both for physical and mental health.  Unfortunately, our society isn't structured this way.  The students I used to work with were, almost without exception, chronically sleep deprived, from the demands of school, extracurricular activities, jobs, family, and some effort to have a social life.  But any serious look at rectifying this situation is usually greeted with a shrug and a comment like, "Yeah, I remember I hardly slept when I was that age."

The subtext -- "I got through it, so you can" -- is poisonous.  As my wife puts it, "Just because we've always done it this way doesn't mean it's not a really, really stupid idea."

At least there's hope, from the time-switch perspective; the Malow et al. paper tells us that there are only four states -- Wisconsin, Indiana, Kentucky, and Maryland -- that aren't currently considering proposals to switch to a permanent clock.  Whether it's Daylight Savings Time or Standard Time doesn't matter; the problem is the clock change twice a year.  If those proposals are evaluated using the best available science (I know, our current government doesn't exactly have a sterling track record for making policy decisions based on science, but maybe wiser heads will prevail, this time at least), then there'll be one less thing to worry about with regards to getting adequate sleep.

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is a fun book about math.

Bet that's a phrase you've hardly ever heard uttered.

Jordan Ellenberg's amazing How Not to Be Wrong: The Power of Mathematical Thinking looks at how critical it is for people to have a basic understanding and appreciation for math -- and how misunderstandings can lead to profound errors in decision-making.  Ellenberg takes us on a fantastic trip through dozens of disparate realms -- baseball, crime and punishment, politics, psychology, artificial languages, and social media, to name a few -- and how in each, a comprehension of math leads you to a deeper understanding of the world.

As he puts it: math is "an atomic-powered prosthesis that you attach to your common sense, vastly multiplying its reach and strength."  Which is certainly something that is drastically needed lately.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

Sleep clocks

Most of us can vouch from first-hand experience that we don't think straight when we're sleep-deprived.

I used to be a terrible insomniac -- I can only say "used to" because part of it was that I had obstructive sleep apnea, despite having exactly zero of the usual predisposing risk factors.  (Turns out I have a "narrow tracheal opening," which was closing up -- get this -- twenty-three times an hour.  No wonder I wasn't sleeping well.)  In any case, I sleep better now because I'm on a CPAP machine, which keeps me breathing, especially when I lie on my back.

But that hasn't fixed the fact that I'm a nervous, twitchy type, and usually my brain is going at Warp 6, often about bizarre topics.  I remember once, in the days before Google, losing nearly an entire night's sleep trying to remember the name of the Third Musketeer.  (Athos, Porthos, and... so you aren't kept up by it, his name was Aramis.)

Because that's obviously a critical enough piece of information that my brain has to keep me awake over it.  Can't wait till the morning, obviously.

Then there are earworms, little snippets of music that keep running around and around AND AROUND AND AROUND in your head, until you'd be willing to use anything to excise it, up to and including a reciprocating saw.  Like the time a couple of weeks ago my brain thought it would be fun at two in the morning to keep singing the same phrase from Manfred Mann's song "Blinded by the Light" eight hundred times in a row.  For the record, I hated that song before, and now I hate it more.  Also for the record, no one is ever going to convince me that he's not singing, "wrapped up like a douche, another runner in the night."

But I digress.

So my point is, we all know that sleep deprivation is harmful, but it's much harder to determine exactly why that is.  But we've just gotten a new window on the question with two studies that appeared in Science this week suggesting that what's happening when we sleep is that we're resetting our circadian rhythms -- more specifically, the chemicals controlling it -- and when that doesn't happen, it seriously impairs our brain's function in a variety of ways.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Sculpture of a Sleeping Man-New Jersey https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Tomwsulcer]

In the first, conducted by a team at the University of Zurich led by neuroscientist Sara Noya, we learn that the production of certain pieces of messenger RNA -- the first step in the production of proteins of all sorts, and therefore a good measure of gene activity -- is coordinated by the timing of sleep, and thrown off severely when a person is sleep deprived.  The authors write:

[We found that] that forebrain synaptic transcript accumulation [i.e. mRNAs] shows overwhelmingly daily rhythms, with two-thirds of synaptic transcripts showing time-of-day–dependent abundance independent of oscillations in the soma.  These transcripts formed two sharp temporal and functional clusters, with transcripts preceding dawn related to metabolism and translation and those anticipating dusk related to synaptic transmission.  Characterization of the synaptic proteome around the clock demonstrates the functional relevance of temporal gating for synaptic processes and energy homeostasis.  Unexpectedly, sleep deprivation completely abolished proteome but not transcript oscillations.  Altogether, the emerging picture is one of a circadian anticipation of messenger RNA needs in the synapse followed by translation as demanded by sleep-wake cycles.

In the second, written by a team led by Franziska Brüning of Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich, they found that sleep deprivation had a much larger effect on these chemical circadian rhythms than anyone could have anticipated:

The circadian clock drives daily changes of physiology, including sleep-wake cycles, through regulation of transcription, protein abundance, and function.  Circadian phosphorylation [a process associated with energy activation of proteins] controls cellular processes in peripheral organs, but little is known about its role in brain function and synaptic activity...  Half of the synaptic phosphoproteins [we studied], including numerous kinases, had large-amplitude rhythms peaking at rest-activity and activity-rest transitions.  Bioinformatic analyses revealed global temporal control of synaptic function through phosphorylation, including synaptic transmission, cytoskeleton reorganization, and excitatory/inhibitory balance.  Sleep deprivation abolished 98% of all phosphorylation cycles in synaptoneurosomes, indicating that sleep-wake cycles rather than circadian signals are main drivers of synaptic phosphorylation, responding to both sleep and wake pressures.

 All of which makes it even more unfortunate that we live in a society where the various pressures and distractions make it difficult to get a good night's sleep.  In fact, I've heard people doing what amounts to bragging about not sleeping, as if that was some sort of badge of honor signifying how hard they work or what kind of stresses they're dealing with.

The bottom line, here, is that there is a dramatic connection between not only adequate sleep every night and normal brain function, but between sleep and general health.  Not that it's easy, I get that.  We've all got a lot to deal with in our lives that can interfere with sleeping.  But my point is that we need to start prioritizing sleep as much as we prioritize such healthful habits as exercise and good diet.  Wanting to sleep more isn't laziness.  It's doing what it takes so that when we are awake, we're function at our optimum.

So, on that note, I think I'm gonna take a nap.  If I can stop rerunning brilliant and insightful lyrics like, "Little early birdie came by in his curly whirly, and asked me if I needed a ride" over and over.

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I am not someone who generally buys things impulsively after seeing online ads, so the targeted ad software that seems sometimes to be listening to our conversations is mostly lost on me.  But when I saw an ad for the new book by physicist James Trefil and astronomer Michael Summers, Imagined Life, it took me about five seconds to hit "purchase."

The book is about exobiology -- the possibility of life outside of Earth.  Trefil and Summers look at the conditions and events that led to life here on the home planet (after all, the only test case we have), then extrapolate to consider what life elsewhere might be like.  They look not only at "Goldilocks" worlds like our own -- so-called because they're "juuuuust right" in terms of temperature -- but ice worlds, gas giants, water worlds, and even "rogue planets" that are roaming around in the darkness of space without orbiting a star.  As far as the possible life forms, they imagine "life like us," "life not like us," and "life that's really not like us," always being careful to stay within the known laws of physics and chemistry to keep our imaginations in check and retain a touchstone for what's possible.

It's brilliant reading, designed for anyone with an interest in science, science fiction, or simply looking up at the night sky with astonishment.  It doesn't require any particular background in science, so don't worry about getting lost in the technical details.  Their lucid and entertaining prose will keep you reading -- and puzzling over what strange creatures might be out there looking at us from their own home worlds and wondering if there's any life down there on that little green-and-blue planet orbiting the Sun.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

A consummation devoutly to be wished

When I was in college, I had an eight a.m. calculus class with a woman who used to drag herself in, large coffee in her hand, looking like death warmed over.  The first time this happened, I thought she'd just pulled an all-nighter either studying or partying -- both common occurrences in college -- but then I noticed it was day after day.  The poor woman never looked wide awake, and always seemed just this side of miserable.

Finally, being the subtle and compassionate person you all know me to be, I said to her, "What the hell is wrong with you?", or words to that effect.

She explained to me that she had serious sleep issues.  She'd get back to her dorm from her last class in the afternoon, still feeling exhausted, but then she'd get a second wind in the early evening.  Come a reasonable bedtime -- say, ten-thirty or eleven -- she was wide awake.

"I don't even bother going to bed," she told me.  "I tried it, more than once, and lay there for hours staring at the ceiling.  Now I just get up and try to be productive."

Until about four-thirty or five in the morning, when she'd finally feel tired.  Then she'd go to sleep, and her alarm would go off at six, and she'd start the whole cycle again -- with about an hour's worth of sleep.

I didn't find out until much later that what she was suffering from has a name; circadian dysrhythmia.  Basically, it's when your biological clock is completely out of sync with the rest of the world.  It's a little like a permanent case of jet lag.  And sadly, even now, forty years later, it's still remarkably resistant to treatment.

It's been the conventional wisdom for some time that circadian rhythms are mediated through a part of the brain called the hypothalamus.  And this is clearly part of the answer; sleepiness is correlated with increased activity in the anterior part of the region, and an increase in the hypothalamic production of the neurotransmitter gamma amino-butyric acid (GABA), which has an inhibitory effect on neural excitation.

[Image is licensed under the Creative Commons Jamain, Sleeping man J1, CC BY-SA 3.0]

But two new papers, published simultaneously last week in the journal Cell, have shown us that things may not be that simple.  (Are they ever?)  Both studies were done at the University of California - Irvine, and have shown that the network of internal clocks that regulates our metabolism, activity, alertness, and other cyclic behaviors are not limited to the brain -- that other parts of the body also have significant contributions to modulating our daily cycles.

In the first, titled, "BMAL1-Driven Tissue Clocks Respond Independently to Light to Maintain Homeostasis," researchers found that a chemically-driven clock exists... in our skin cells.  The authors write:

Circadian rhythms control organismal physiology throughout the day.  At the cellular level, clock regulation is established by a self-sustained Bmal1-dependent transcriptional oscillator network [a cyclic rise and fall of gene activity associated with light levels].  However, it is still unclear how different tissues achieve a synchronized rhythmic physiology.  That is, do they respond independently to environmental signals, or require interactions with each other to do so?  We show that unexpectedly, light synchronizes the Bmal1-dependent circadian machinery in single tissues in the absence of Bmal1 in all other tissues.  Strikingly, light-driven tissue autonomous clocks occur without rhythmic feeding behavior and are lost in constant darkness.

Maybe not so shocking, given that our skin is at least partly exposed to the light.  What is more surprising is the second paper, which found that a light-dependent circadian rhythm takes place in our livers:

Mammals rely on a network of circadian clocks to control daily systemic metabolism and physiology.  The central pacemaker in the suprachiasmatic nucleus (SCN) is considered hierarchically dominant over peripheral clocks, whose degree of independence, or tissue-level autonomy, has never been ascertained in vivo.  Using arrhythmic Bmal1-null mice, we generated animals with reconstituted circadian expression of BMAL1 exclusively in the liver (Liver-RE)...  [R]hythmic clock gene expression is lost in Liver-RE mice under constant darkness.  Hence, full circadian function in the liver depends on signals emanating from other clocks, and light contributes to tissue-autonomous clock function.

"The results were quite surprising," said Paolo Sassone-Corsi, who co-authored both studies.  "No one realized that the liver or skin could be so directly affected by light...  The future implications of our findings are vast.  With these mice, we can now begin deciphering the metabolic pathways that control our circadian rhythms, aging processes and general well-being."

It's undeniable that sleep plays a central role in both mental and physical health, and that the vast majority of us don't get sufficient sleep either in quantity or quality.  The more scientists find out about how our sleep cycles and other circadian rhythms are modulated, the greater the likelihood there'll be a treatment for people like my long-ago college acquaintance -- and even for simple insomniacs like myself.

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As will be obvious to any long-time readers of Skeptophilia, I have a positive fascination with things that are big and scary and can kill you.

It's why I tell my students, in complete seriousness, if I hadn't become a teacher I'd have been a tornado chaser.  There's something awe-inspiring about the sheer magnitude of destruction they're capable of.  Likewise earthquakes, hurricanes, wildfires...

But as sheer destructive power goes, there's nothing like the ones that are produced off-Earth.  These are the subject of Phil Plait's brilliant, funny, and highly entertaining Death From the Skies.  Plait is best known for his wonderful blog Bad Astronomy, which simultaneously skewers pseudoscience and teaches us about all sorts of fascinating stellar phenomena.  Here, he gives us the scoop on all the dangerous ones -- supernovas, asteroid collisions, gamma-ray bursters, Wolf-Rayet stars, black holes, you name it.  So if you have a morbid fascination with all the ways the universe is trying to kill you, presented in such a way that you'll be laughing as much as shivering, check out Plait's book.

[Note:  If you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

Naps, rewards, and circadian rhythms

Even when I have gotten enough sleep, which isn't honestly that often, I have a distinct pattern in my energy level.  I tend to be an early riser, and after a barely-coherent half-hour or so in which I make coffee and answer anyone who talks to me in snarly monosyllabic grunts, I have a period of three hours or so during which I'm usually quite productive.  After lunch, there's about two to three hours of slump, when my chief concern is finding a nice quiet corner to curl up and take a nap.  (This doesn't help my 9th period class much, but they're big kids.  They can deal.)

[image courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons]

Late afternoon is usually pretty high energy, but after dinner I fade steadily.  By nine o'clock I'm ready to be reading a book in preparation for powering down for the night.  The times I'm up after ten are rare indeed.

Real party animal, that's me.

I've always been a little curious as to why this is, as it seems to have little to do with external circumstances.  One of those odd circadian rhythms, but what purpose it could serve, I have no idea.

But now a recent piece of research has found a fascinating correlation to this pattern, one that involves the "neural reward center" of the brain, located in the putamen (interestingly, this same part of the brain is involved in several disparate functions, such as motor coordination, category learning, and our perceptions of hatred and disgust).

The current study, entitled "Time of Day Differences in Neural Reward Functioning in Healthy Young Men," was co-authored by Jamie E. M. Byrne, Matthew E. Hughes, Susan L. Rossell, Sheri L. Johnson, and Greg Murray, of Swinburne University (Australia), and appeared this week in The Journal of Neuroscience.  The researchers looked at the degree of activation in the left putamen -- the aforementioned neural reward center -- in sixteen healthy male test subjects, and found out that the peak not only in activity, but the subjects' self-reported feelings of well-being, peaked in the early afternoon.

The authors write:

Reward function appears to be modulated by the circadian system, but little is known about the neural basis of this interaction.  Previous research suggests that the neural reward response may be different in the afternoon; however the direction of this effect is contentious.  Reward response may follow the diurnal rhythm in self-reported positive affect, peaking in the early afternoon.  An alternative is that daily reward response represents a type of prediction error, with neural reward activation relatively high at times of day when rewards are unexpected (i.e., early and late in the day).  The present study measured neural reward activation in the context of a validated reward task at 10.00h, 14.00h, and 19.00h in healthy human males...  Consistent with the ‘prediction error’ hypothesis, activation was significantly higher at 10.00h and 19.00h compared to 14.00h.  It is provisionally concluded that the putamen may be particularly important in endogenous priming of reward motivation at different times of day, with the pattern of activation consistent with circadian-modulated reward expectancies in neural pathways; viz., greater activation to reward stimuli at unexpected times of day. 

Put more simply, our reward centers react more strongly in the early morning and late afternoon because they're kind of surprised when things at those times don't suck.

Which makes me wonder about my own peculiar circadian rhythm.  I know that early-morning types like myself are in the minority, and my perkiness (at least once I've had coffee) at seven AM inspires near-homicidal rage in the typical morning-hater.  Also, I tend to be getting glassy-eyed at the point in the evening when most people are just getting the festivities rolling.

So would I show the opposite pattern in my left putamen than the test subjects in the Byrne et al. study?  Because I definitely wouldn't say my feelings of "positive affect" peak in the early afternoon.  The only thing that peaks around that time is my need for a nice long nap in the hammock.

Or, maybe, I am more productive during the morning and late afternoon because that's when I get the best payback from my reward centers.  In the early afternoon, perhaps my brain says, "Okay, if I'm not gonna get any props for working hard, why bother?  If I'm not appreciated, then screw it, I'm putting my feet up."

I'd love to volunteer for an fMRI and see what's going on in there -- whether my response is explainable from the pattern that Byrne et al. noticed, or if I'm just an aberration.

Be that as it may, the study is pretty cool from the standpoint of demonstrating a neurological underpinning to our behavioral circadian rhythms.  Any lens we can get on the workings of our brains is all to the good.  But I'm gonna wind this up, because my early-morning window of opportunity is wearing on, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to accomplish bugger-all after that.